Playing With Magic
by HiBob
Summary: A young Irish lad is told that Hogwarts will be an adventure. He gets more than he bargained for in the first two weeks at school. (Complete Story) Check out the footnotes in Chapter Nine to find out how to say "Go to ...." in Gaelic.
1. Forward

PLAYING WITH MAGIC   
  


Forward

This is all the standard disclaimer stuff, please skip on to the next chapter unless you really are interested in this. I decided to put all of this in one chapter by itself, rather than inflict it on everyone at the beginning of every chapter.

The story takes place in the first half of September in Harry Potter's fifth year at Hogwart's. The story follows the narrator, a first year by the name of Owen O'Donnell, as he becomes involved in a story, that begins as one of horror. The story is set in twelve chapters, with a Prologue and an Epilogue. The epilogue is for the traditional happy ending, where are they now, that everyone likes.

The Harry Potter characters are, as we all know, the property of JK Rowling. I have included a character named Walter, who is a later version of the title character in my short story, The Magic Life of Walter Mitty. I should therefore give credit to James Thurber for creating the original character on which Walter is based.

As Owen is Irish, a fair amount of Gaelic is used in the story. Footnote are included to give the meanings and pronunciations. In all cases, inflection is not noted, as I do not have a Gaelic oriented keyboard. For those who are interested, I deliberately took most of the phrases I used from The Trinity College, Dublin, website, Interactive Irish On The Net. The following web address should bring you to a page called Interactive Irish Lessons.

(www.maths.tcd.ie/gaeilge/gaelic.html)

I apologize in advance for any errors in spelling. Gaelic is a second language for me, and one that I am poor at. Otherwise, I wish you a happy read.

  
  


Sincerly,

  
  


HiBob

  
  



	2. Prologue

September 2, 12:30 AM

  
  


The black-haired boy ran barefoot down Hogwart's halls. Clad only in his nightshirt, he stumbled mindlessly from one corridor after another. Peeves the Poltergeist spotted the wayward boy, a newcomer, fresh to Ravenclaw. He swooped down ready for mischief, when the child collapsed. Peeves stopped. This was not a good thing. Then he smiled to himself. He could use this to harass a teacher, to harass anyone. He knew just the place, a room near by, an important meeting.

Peeves rushed through the wall, making sure he had gotten the Headmaster's attention. "Student out of bed, Student out of bed," he shouted, annoying everyone in the room. Everyone but Dumbledore.

"Take me there, Now," he told Peeves.

"No need, no need," laughed Peeves, "Open the door, look to your right." Laughing at the irritation he caused, Peeves fled the room, searching for more nighttime mischief.

It was Hagrid, closest to the door, who jumped up. He threw open the door, and looked down. The boy was crawling as fast as he could to get away from something, but there was nothing there. His face was white and panicked, tears blocking his sight. Hagrid picked the boy up, and he started screaming, kicking and thrashing about in an effort to get away. The giant could think of nothing else to do, except hold on tight to the boy, hugging him close. He whispered to the boy over and over, "It's all right, your safe now."

After a few minutes, his struggling ceased and the boy began to calm down. Albus leaned close and softly asked what had happened. When the boy did not respond to this simple question, Albus tried a different tactic.

"Owen," he said in the same soft voice. He received no response. He gently put his hand on the boy's chin to raise his head.

The boy looked up in renewed shock. "The Tinker," he said with a note of horror in his voice.

"What about the Tinker, Owen. Please tell me."

Owen stared ahead in abject fear, mouthing incoherently." Having used the last of his strength, the boy collapsed. He was still unconscious when Madame Pomfrey arrived.

Dumbledore reentered the room, leaving Hagrid to carry the boy to the infirmary. He told the others what Owen had said. "I suppose we should continue this meeting tomorrow, or in view of the time, later today, after dinner.

Arthur Weasley stood up, saying, "that would be best, Molly can be here as well."

"You're right, dear, I will come up," said Molly's voice from the fireplace. "I'll bring the little lad with me as well. He'll enjoy a train ride through the country. Good night all."

Neville excused himself, saying he would have liked to have been in bed hours ago. Dumbledore bade him goodbye, assuring him that the first day back to school is always a rough one. The fifth-year was grinning at the headmaster's understatement as he left.

Dumbledore turned to the last member of the group, except for the Sorting Hat. "Mr. Olivander, what are your plans, if I may ask."

The wand maker answered firmly, "I was not sure of what to do, but after what has happened, I will definitely stay as long as I can. I will need an excuse for being here. Tomorrow is the first day of class, and thus a half day. At breakfast, tell the students that I will be holding classes, during the morning hours, on proper care of wands. No one may come, but then no one will wonder why I am here."

"I am glad you are part of our group," Albus said warmly. "Let me show you to the guest quarters, they are on my way."

As Albus went to pick up the Sorting Hat, it told him not to bother. "Being alone in a dark room suits me tonight. I need to sit and think for a while, about the newest member of our little group."

  
  



	3. September 1

September 1

  
  


I am Owen O'Donnell, known as Owen Dugh (1) because of my dark hair. I am a direct descendant of Owen Roe O'Donnell who, with Owen Roe O'Neill and Owen Roe Maguire, rose up against the English in glorious battle. It was their tragic defeat that led to the Flight of the Earls, and gave birth to the Wild Geese, adding volumes to the songs and legends that are our culture. The battles have long since ended, but the troubles still continue. As with many of us, I do not look for a winner, I only look for the violence to stop, yet I cannot find a way. Thus it is before this backdrop of divided Ulster, I live my life.

Da was the owner of the neighborhood pub, and every night and weekend until the early morning, the local bands would give it a try on the small stage. I grew up listening to American Pop and Sinead O'Connor, with Folk Singers and Ceiligh bands thrown into the mix. It was here that I started to play professionally.

Mam thought it a good idea to practice my music in the pub. This way I would learn what people liked to hear. On the slow nights, I would pull out my harp and play. If it was a bit busy, I would play the acoustic guitar and try my hand at singing. Always though, I would have the bodhran. (2) Da made a strap for me to wear that I could attach my drum to, and I would wear it everywhere. Thanks to having an audience, my music skills increased, as did my pocket change. There is nothing like money to give a boy incentive.

On my eleventh birthday, my life changed. An owl flew into the kitchen and dropped my letter on the table. Mam called to Da saying it came. The letter was not a surprise as magic was no stranger in my family.

Aunt Jessica was a witch and would visit us frequently to see her favorite nephew. That meant Fergus would have to sit with her the entire time, while I would go off with Uncle Darren and show him the town. Uncle claimed to have magic in him but not enough to do anything. He made his living as an accountant, and a very good living, too. His investments for my Da payed off well enough to keep us safe from the banks.

It was Uncle Darren I talked to after I had read my letter. As the family gathered for another excuse to have a party, Uncle and I walked out to the cliffs. Looking out over Lough Swilly I asked him what I should do. He sat me down and told me of the decisions my family had made in the past

"Most went to Hogwarts, but you O'Donnells are a stubborn lot. Your father's father went, was a prefect and head boy. He graduated in the top of his class. His future wife was the only one to get a higher grade. Your father refused outright. He had an ear for music, and in his younger days, toured with a band. Magic was nice, but he had no use for it. Your Aunt Jessica went. She stayed to graduate, and joined the ministry. She came to work in the finance department, and that is where we met." A grin lit his face as he told me that last part.

"But what should I do," I asked?

He looked across the bay, and pointed to a far piece of land. "Owen, suppose I went over to that spot of land, and decided I liked it. Should I stay there?"

"If ye can, sure," I said.

"And if I didn't like it, what should I do?" he asked.

"You can always leave," I answered, as understanding brought a smile to my lips.

He patted my shoulder and told me, "Owen, if nothing else, it will be an adventure."

On the way back, I asked how my parents met. He told me it was because of Aunt Jessica. "She invited another girl from school to visit, as her family lived near by. She and your Da kept in touch." And the rest is history, as Uncle Darren likes to say.

"Why doesn't Mam use magic?" I wondered.

Uncle said that she did, but that we don't talk about it. He then closed with the line, "We'll talk about it when you're older."

As the summer days grew to a close, I prepared myself for the journey. It was Uncle Darren who accompanied me. We crossed the Irish Sea and then took a train to London. "There are faster ways," he told me, "but none of them will give you a feel for the land." He took me for my school supplies, and gave me my first true taste of the realm of magic. I was intoxicated.

September the first found me eager to board the Hogwarts Express. Uncle had told me of a surprise waiting for me in one of the compartments, but it was up to me to find it. I began walking through the train, looking in the various compartments, when I heard someone singing. I knew instantly that I had found it.

I looked in to see the brown haired girl sitting, her blue eyes closed as she sang:

Red is the Rose in yonder valley grows

Fair is the Lily of the Valley

At this point, I joined in with my tenor voice:

Clear is the water that flows from the Boyne

But my true love is fairer than any. (3)

"Me name's Owen," I said as she opened her eyes.

"Cousin," She called, "You came to see me off. Go raimh maith agat. (4) Why didn't you come earlier? The train will be leaving soon."

"Comhanaich Gael, (5) Fiona MacAlistair, I only just found out you were on the train."

Fiona flushed as she understood what I had said. She looked at me, and I nodded.

"Mam made me promise not to tell ye anything, in case you hadn't gotten in. She said to wait for ye to say something first."

Fiona grinned, saying, "Mother went so far as to tell me how bad you felt for not receiving a letter. She even managed to get me to ask her not to say anything."

We laughed at the joke our mothers had played on us, making us spend weeks with each other without knowing we would be classmates. The two sisters were most likely sitting over a pair of pints, laughing at us.

"My parents brought me to London via portkey, to catch the Hogwarts Express," Fiona told me. "You do know how they believe in being early? I would swear that I was the first student to board the train. All I could do was pick a compartment and wait for what the future might bring."

"And it brought me," I said.

"And what elsewill it bring before this day is done, cousin?"

Fiona then told me how "Father explained to me the importance of meeting the other students and getting to know them. Mother had agreed, as usual. Then she took hold of Father's arm, and told me the story of how they had first met on the train, and formed a friendship." Imitating her mother she added, "Love followed afterward, and we were married shortly after graduation."

Still smirking, Fiona said, "Of course I asked if I would find my true love on the train. Father told me not to worry about that. 'Love will come on its own, but friends must be invited in. Love may be the building block of life. Friendship is its foundation.'"

Her Da always said things like that. When we would be studying geography, he would say, "Know the land and you know the fulness of life." For History, his favorite saying was, "to study the past tells us who we are, and where we came from. If we are observant, it shows us where we are going." Literature was "the gateway that opened the mind to limitless possibilities." "Music," he would say, "fills the soul." As a result of all of this, Fiona was well read, played the violin, sang with a fair voice (not a great voice, but not one to be ashamed of), and she could be pompous at the drop of a hat. I love my cousin Fiona dearly, and for one reason: She will always put up with me.

As the train began to fill, we began to talk more in the old tongue. I noticed that other students would pause, listen to us briefly, then walk on. Amused by this, I asked Fiona, also in Gaelic, if she noticed how they were reacting. She told me she preferred it like that, as it kept boring people away.

A blond girl, Mary Peterson, came by, asking if she could sit with us. She had heard our conversation, and thought we might be interesting. I told her she was completely wrong, but if she wanted a good nap, she could listen to us talk. She laughed at that, and she joined us.

Mary asked me about my bodhran as soon as she saw it. I gave her an offended look when she called it a drum, but Fiona laughed, telling her that I could play harp and guitar as well.

I explained the bodhran was my favorite instrument. "I find that when I play the harp people listen politely, when I play the guitar people make requests, but when I play the bodhran people join in. It always becomes a Ceilidh." (6)

Mary admitted to being less talented, but then revealed that she had been part of her church choir. When she said that, I pulled out my stick and took hold of my bodhran. When she looked at me with a sharp smile, Fiona went into her trunk and pulled out her case. "What are the odds," Mary said, "that we three would meet this way?"

I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Music calls to music. Ye should ask, what are the odds that we would meet this quickly?"

Of a sudden, Mary let out a gasp and pointed out the window. Fiona and I looked in the direction of a small crowd of people coming onto the platform. "That boy," she said, "He's so ragged."

"Tis just a tinker," (7) I said. "Had ye not seen one before? They're common enough in parts of Ireland. The tinkers are known to have magic, but they rarely go for formal schooling. That he's here means he'll be one to watch."

He was a small boy, brown hair darker and almost as long as Fiona"s. He was dressed in worn but clean clothes, and seemed indifferent to the tears in his pants and jacket. He passed by, walking with a group of older students, most of them with red hair. One of them had given him an owl in a cage to carry, which he seemed to enjoy.

As we watched the boy, Mary spoke. "Will you look at the way he walks? Every step he takes says 'I belong here.' Every muscle in his face says, 'to hell with you if you deny it.' I wish I had it in me to be like that."

"Like what?" asked a voice. It was a boy, a second or third year student. He began to sit down when I told him this was a private party. The boy said, "Great," and, pushing a mop of brown hair out of his eyes, introduced himself as Walter. We introduced ourselves, and he sat down after storing two small trunks. I asked Walter if he had any musical talents. He smiled and said he had almost no talent at all, but he often dreamed that he did.

As the train began to leave the station, I began to tap my drum in time to the movement. I wasn't quite aware of it until Mary began to hum along. Fiona had already taken out her fiddle. ( "I was not planning on playing classical music," she told us.) We began to play randomly as the tempo of the train increased. Mary began to sing something that seemed to fit our music, and we began to harmonize.

We played various tunes over the course of the next hour, having a grand time. Then I asked Walter to name a tune. Walter demurred, saying he did not know any, but he did know a few poems. Fiona called for a poem, and the rest of us chimed in. There were six of us by this time. Walter stood up and began his recitation:

Twas brillig and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe

All mimsy were the borogoves

And the mome raths outgrabe (8)   
  


Walter recited the entire poem, using his hand and body movements to emphasize certain lines. He finished to rousing applause. For the rest of my days I will know how to properly shun Bandersnatches, regardless of how frumious they are.

Various students would open the compartment door from time to time, but I would tell them it was a private party. When they would leave, Walter would always laugh. Mary asked him why he found it funny. 

He answered, "What good is a party if you don't stay to enjoy it."

"Even private ones?" Mary asked.

Walter smiled and asked in return, "Is this really a private party, or are you just trying to keep the boring people away?" Fiona and I fell back in laughter of our own at this remark

At one point in our playing, I noticed that Walter was gazing at nothing in particular. I told Fiona and Mary, "If I did not know better, I would swear that he was fighting dragons."

Fiona glanced at him and said, "I think he's winning."

The amusing part is that Walter looked up and asked, "Owen, which would you rather do, fight a dragon, or ride one?"

I gave him my best grin, and thickening my brogue, I said, "Fightin' dragons ha' been done, but to ride one, tha' would be a grand feat."

We all laughed and I thought nothing more of it until years later. I was in a book store looking for something appropriate for my young daughter, when I came across a childrens book called "Owen and His Dragon." Walter was the author, and the picture on the cover showed a black-haired boy on the back of a blue and bronze dragon. The boy even carried a small drum.

  
  


Despite my constant rebukes, some students still called my bluff. These were immediately made part of our little group. By the time the trip was half over, there were at least ten of us crammed into that compartment, although I could not tell you how.

When, the Tinker showed up, I, and about half of us, gave the usual retort. The Tinker smiled and pulled out a thin green metal box. He opened it and pulled out a battered old pennywhistle. Raising it to his lips, he joined in without missing a beat. As we finished, Fiona called out, "The White Cockade," and we continued to play.

There was no longer any semblance of a 'private party.' There were too many of us to even close the compartment door, and the passageway was filled with listeners. We spent the remainder of the trip, playing one song after another. If one of us was tired of singing or playing, we would rest while everyone else carried on. I was right when I said there would be a Ceilidh.

As we approached Hogsmeade Station, everyone began to return to their own compartments to ready themselves. One of a set of twins, told the Tinker that they had to go. The other twin said something about still needing a hat. At this, Walter spoke up for the first time in a long while.

"Fred. Who needs a hat?" he asked one of the twins.

"It's Gregory," he replied, "he doesn't have one."

"Both Mom and Dad packed for me," Walter said, "I have two of everything." He opened one of his trunks and pulled out a hat, handing it over.

When the train arrived, we were introduced to Hagrid, the giant, who would escort us across the lake to the school. As we gathered near the lake, Neville Longbottom ran up to Hagrid, and talked to him. I heard the Tinker's name mentioned, and knew something was up. Fiona and Mary were already talking about what it might be, when we caught the word, "muggle." That set all of us to talking.

Neville introduced himself in a nervous voice. He then started to say he was afraid of something, but he kept pausing at the words"I'm afraid." Then he would start over. After the fourth time, someone asked, "What are you afraid of?"

Neville let out a smile and said, "everything." We laughed at that, and Neville began to describe everything to be afraid of: The small boats, the wide lake, the cold water, the giant squid, Fluffy the dog..."

One boy barked a laugh and said, "You're afraid of a dog named Fluffy?"

"Have you all seen the giant, Hagrid?" Neville asked, receiving a round of nods. "Well, I don't know exactly how big Fluffy is, but each of his heads is as big as Hagrid."

"Each?" said Fiona, her face going slightly pale.

"He has three," Neville explained. 

He kept talking to us while moving us into the boats. To one boy he said, "Be careful you don't fall in, or the squid will toss you any which way. One student got a lucky break and landed on the steps in front of the school. More than one break, really. Those steps are hard."

When he came up to our little group, I tried to hide my bodhran. He asked me why.

"It's not allowed," I said. "They told me to leave it with me other things."

"Do you always do things when people tell you not to?" He asked with a grin. Not waiting for an answer, he added, "Well, don't play the drum when you're in the boat."

As we boarded our small vessel, Fiona bemoaned not bringing her violin. "We could have given them a grand concert on the water."

We looked back when we heard Hagrid. He was leading the Tinker to a boat, and Neville was getting in it as well. "We'll have our concert after all," I told her.

As the boats began their journey across the lake. I began tapping my drum. I watched as the Tinker asked Neville a question. When he pulled out his pennywhistle, I could not help but grin. We played the Skye Boat Song, Fiona softly singing, "Speed bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing." We paused only when Hogwarts came into view. It was a wonderous site.

  
  


Meeting the Tinker was when my adventure began. That he was a muggle did not surprise me as much as it should. I lived in a house with magic, but it was rarely used. My parents would even argue about whether or not to fix a broken glass, even though it would have taken no time at all. Magic was not that important in our family life. What surprised me about the Tinker was his skill in music. Even though he played an old pennywhistle, he made the most of it. He had a way such as I had never seen. I considered myself to be skilled, but my skill was a pale thing to his natural ability.

  
  


When we entered the school, the Tinker was taken aside by Professor McGonagall, and was asked various question about the wand he had, how he came to be at Kings Cross that day, and about his brother. My Tinker friend answered most of the question with vague answers or not at all. The adults were already deciding that he should be sent back to London, and letting the Ministry of Magic handle the situation, even though it was obvious that none of them liked the idea.

Having never been shy, I had walked up behind the group and stood there, listening. That is how I noticed the problem, and it's solution. Decided to seize the moment, I got their attention by doing what a child my age is never supposed to do. I treated them as though I was an equal. Addressing the headmaster, I said, "Albus, ye forgot something."

Every face turned toward me. McGonagall spoke first, telling me to show proper respect and to get back in line.

Dumbledore interrupted her, saying he would take care of the matter. Turning to me, he asked, "Owen, what did I forget?"

I had heard about him, but I was still surprised that he knew me right off. Giving him my best smile I told him, "The Sorting Hat. Mam told me it looks into your head to sort you into the proper house. Can't you have it look in the Tinker's head to find out what he forgot?"

The man from the Ministry, Arthur Weasley, pointed out that as the boy had no magic, and so he could not be sorted.

"Mr. Wyatt does not have to be sorted," Dunbledore stated. "The Hat would only have to determine Whether or not he is a threat to the school, and to see if the boy has the answers to our questions." Looking to the Tinker, he said, "Gregory, you have to do this willingly. We will not have you put the Hat on, otherwise."

At the thought of trying on a magical hat, the Tinker quickly agreed. It was more than he expected, and with the promise of a full meal, he was in heaven. AsI returned to my place, I noticed Dumbledore placing the Tinker in the front of the line. I stopped Professor McGonagall and asked why. It seemed wiser to me to have him wear the Hat in a more private place.

It was Dumbledore who answered me. He came back to talk to me, and heard my question. "These are troubled times, Owen Dugh (How did he know to call me that?), and I do not like to keep secrets if I do not have to. If Gregory is a problem, it is best that everyone knows. If he is not a problem, then the students get to see what happens when a muggle tries on the Sorting Hat. Either way, it will be an education."

I thought to myself how much he sounded like Uncle Darren.

"Professor," I asked, but he interrupted me.

"Owen, you started off calling me Albus, please don't become formal with me and destroy our budding friendship." With that, he gave me a warm smile, and his eyes glinted as though he were laughing.

"Albus, why didn't you suggest the Sorting Hat in the first place? It was obvious to me that you knew about it."

"Owen, sometimes it pays to not know everything at once," Albus said with a sigh. "I would have suggested it eventually, but this way I give others the time to examine the problem, and perhaps suggest a better idea. If I always give them my solutions, they will always expect them from me, instead of trying to find their own. They would think I know everything, instead of suspecting that I do." With a sigh he added, "Why don't you come by for tea tomorrow? We can talk some more."

I accepted his invitation, and thanked him for his time. After all, he had made every first-year jealous of me. I should make the most of it.

We walked into the Great Hall, and stopped in front of the stool on which the Sorting Hat was placed, and listened as it sang a song about the houses we would be sorted into. Professor McGonagall called out, "Gregory Wyatt," and the Tinker walked forward and put on the hat. A hush fell over the entire hall when his name was called. It was clear that this was not the usual turn of events, and not one student wanted to miss what would happen.

What happened was that we waited. Then, we waited some more. As the wait grew longer, I could hear whispered conversations beginning. Rumors were flying around the hall about what was going on. After a good while, the Tinker removed the Hat and turned toward us. "O'Donnell Dugh," he called out, "It wants to talk to you."

I looked over at Albus, and he appeared amused by all of this. Taking his attitude as my cue, I stepped out of line, and walked over to take the Hat. As I put the Hat on, I said, in a loud voice, "Now, lad, we'll see what problem the hat is having."

"Very Funny," the hat said inside my head.

"Excuse me, please," I said, "but this is the largest audience I've ever played to."

"All the worlds a stage to you, isn't it, my young friend," the Hat said with amusement. "Let us see what parts you can play, so we can sort you properly,"

"What does that have to do with the Tinker," I asked?

"Ah, a bright lad," the hat remarked, "You picked up on that right away. I can't sort the other boy because he has no magic. As you are the closest he has to a friend, I will sort him to whichever house you go to."

I know the hat felt my surprise at his statement. Muggles don't attend Hogwarts. I asked the Hat about this.

"My reasoning is simple," the Hat said. "I am supposed to refuse him and send him home. The problem is, he does not have a home. Therefore, my choice is to either admit him or send him back onto the streets." It told me to give it back to the Tinker, then called out."Ravenclaw." Feeling confused, I removed the hat and handed it back. Even when the hat called out Ravenclaw a second time, I could not grasp what was happening. As the two of us walked to our table, amidst raucous applause, it sank in. Thanks to me, there would be a muggle attending Hogwarts after all. This school was going to be an interesting place.

The sorting continued in a normal fashion after that. Fiona was sorted into the same house as we were, as was Mary Peterson. The ceremony ended, and our quartet prepared for the feast to follow. As the food appeared, I reached for a dinner role, only to have it grabbed from me by a red-haired girl who was sitting across from me. Her name was Kelly Gilhooly, and her emerald eyes matched the green hills of Connacht, where she was born. We named our eldest son, Gregory, after our best friend.

  
  


As we ate, we talked about various things. At one point, I saw Mary looking across the room. "There's Neville," she said. As we looked up, the girl sitting next to him saw us and waved.

"That's Ginny," the Tinker told us, "She and her brothers helped sneak me on board the train. They were the ones who gave me my robe." We politely waved to Ginny, and she nudged Neville, who looked over. Our waves became enthusiastic, forcing him to smile. Neville was the most popular student in the school, at least as far as the first years were concerned.

While we watched, Ginny said something to Neville. He said something in return, and Ginny leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "She is his girlfriend," Fiona said with authority. "That's why he helped you, Gregory. She asked him to keep an eye on you."

"They fit well together," Mary said. The Tinker nodded his agreement. 

.When we finished eating, I remarked on what the Tinker had told us he said when he had first seen Hogwarts. I said to him, "well, well, me tinker lad. Ye've made it to the Magic Castle, and feasted in the Great Hall of the King of Faerie. Now the King is ready to grant your fondest wish." I put on my best Puckish grin when I asked, "What do ye wish for more than anything else in the entire world?"

The Tinker thought for a minute. He patted his full stomach and looked around the table. Then he looked me in the eye and said, "I could use a good bed."

  
  


1. Dugh (Due) Meaning: Black-haired. Roe is red-haired. 

2. Bodhran A hand-held drum. A traditional Gaelic instument. 

3. Red is the Rose: Traditional song, same tune as Loch Lomond 

4. Go raimh maith agat (go rahv mah AH-gaht) Meaning: Thank You. 

5. Camhanaich Gael (COW-nah gale) Meaning: Irish dawn. A euphemism used by my uncle, colloquially it means the same as "Good Grief" 

6. Ceiligh (KAY-lee) Meaning: a gathering. A Ceiligh is an informal gathering where music is expected, and anyone who attends expects, and is expected, to participate. 

7. Tinker The tinkers are the traveling people of Ireland. Think of a cross between the Gypsies and the Amish. 

8. Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll, the first stanza

  
  



	4. September 2: Afternoon and Evening

September 2: Afternoon and Evening

When I awoke it was already late in the afternoon. If I hurried, I could probably make my last class of the day, if I could remember what it was. I noticed I was wearing pajamas, and not my nightshirt. Embarrassment washed over me at the thought of being dressed by someone else..

I heard a noise, and looked toward the doorway. Madam Pomfrey was there, with Fiona standing beside her. This must be the infirmary, I thought.

They walked softly to the bed, Fiona laying a package on the table next to me. It was my small harp, wrapped in its cloth. I wanted to admonish her for not leaving it in its case, but I was too weak to do more than make a face.

"I know, cousin, you would rather your drum, but I could not find it, and I had not the time to look. I know you love your music, and I thought you would appreciate the gesture." I tried to make a weak smile. Her smile in return showed me she understood.

"You've delivered your package, Child," Madam Pomfrey told her, "now off to class, you're already late. Remember the pass I gave you, or you'll have trouble, for sure. Now, let's let Owen rest some more."

Fiona brushed her brown hair from her eyes, and gave me another warm smile in parting. "Slan agat, (1)" she said, as she turned to leave. I must go. 

"Slan leat, " I said in my thoughts. I wish you could stay. I closed my eyes and was sleeping again in moments.

  
  


When I opened my eyes again, it was getting late. There was light enough from the sun, but it would not last long. Feeling a weight on my side, I moved my hand and found the harp lying on the bed next to me. An odd feeling came over me. I knew Fiona had left it on the table, and Madam Pomfrey would have no cause to move it.

I eased myself into a sitting position, glad that I was stronger from the rest. I sat the harp on my lap, idly plucking at the strings. The notes sounded faintly for all the effort I made, yet the movement of my hands and fingers were familiar and relaxing. I heard a soft noise and looked up, expecting to see Madam Pomfrey. Instead it was a spirit that I recognized from the night before: the Poltergeist, Peeves.

"Even so low you make that ugly noise," Peeves taunted. "Are you so sick you must make all of us sick?"

"Would ye rather a tune," I asked in mock humor? I was dismayed how weak and unsteady my voice was, but happy I could at least talk.

"Ugh, Ugly human, Ugly noise." The Poltergeist made as to cover his ears, showing his disgust.

I took this as a challenge. I could not let the moment pass. "T'is O'Caithlin's reel ye want, then. I began to play, the music filling the quiet room. It was the tune Rory O'Caithlin had heard that fateful day, the tune we call today the Londonderry Air. As I played, I lost myself in the music, as I am wont to do, thinking only of the harp and my fingers.

As the last notes died away, Peeves moved to the foot of my bed. "You are a friend. You are a good friend." He flew up, through the ceiling, and was gone.

Madam Pomfrey came in as I was staring upwards. She had been about to say something, when she saw the harp in my lap. "Well, you are definitely better if you can lift that," she said. Putting the harp aside, she placed a tray in front of me. It held my supper of juice, and a clear broth. "If you handle that, I'll give you some rolls and butter. There is also tea if you want any." She gave the harp another quick glance, and left me to eat in peace.

I held the broth, and the rolls as well. I felt more solid, if not more relaxed. I had a lot on my mind. Most recently with Peeves. It was he who put the harp on my bed, and that is what woke me up. His taunting was designed to recall the tune "first played by no human hand." He did this as an excuse to make friends with me. All I had to do was figure out why he needed a friend. I would not turn him away because, for now, I needed all the friends I could get. He was the only friend I had that I could trust. And that was a problem again. What was it that made me sure I could trust him.

  
  


As the dinner hour ended, Fiona came by again. "It's only because I'm a relative," she told me. They won't let you see anyone else until morning." Her blue eyes locked on to mine. "Cad e mar a ta tu," she asked?

"Tu me go maith," (2) I replied. My health was good. she need not have asked. She sat. and we talked of small things, using the old tongue. Speaking the Gael, as Da would call it, always made us feel at home. It was the language we always used to talk about family things. It also annoyed Madam Pomfrey, which was another plus.

At she left, she gave me her usual farewell, "May God not weaken your hand." She said this in English, for the benefit of our host, but it struck a cord in me.

"Better to bless the postman," I muttered, not realizing I had spoken aloud.

Fiona looked at me wide-eyed. I had told her something, but she did not know what. She stood as though to go, then turned back, saying sternly, "Gura slan an scealai." (3) 

She turned and walked briskly out of the room, pausing only to say "Good Evening, Professor Dumbledore," as she passed the Headmaster, by the doorway.

"Slan leat," I called out to no answer. 

"An interesting conversation," Dumbledore said, "I have always loved the sound of the Irish language, although I never did learn any of it. I am guessing that what you said was goodbye?"

Now I am the language teacher, I thought wryly. "Yes, Albus, you say 'Slan leat' to someone when they leave. If you are leaving, you say 'Slan Agat'."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, finding import in the words. "Thank you for remembering our agreement, young man. I must admit, I find it refreshing to have someone under fifty call me by my given name"

"Some people are coming here," he said abruptly. "We were holding a meeting last night, which you interrupted." He watched me to gauge my reaction, then continued, "The subject of the meeting was Gregory Wyatt."

The sound of the name startled me, bringing back the memories of what happened, thankfully buffered by what little time had passed. "Ye want to know wha' happen," I said, my brogue thickening on my tongue. As he nodded, I said, "I'll tell ye, but I would like ye to tell me as well."

Dumbledore smiled, "I am glad to hear you say that Owen. In fact, that is what I hoped to do, to have you join our small group. I want you to know that we are you friends, and that you can trust us."

"I would like that," I said to the air about me, "to talk with someone I trust."

"Professor," Madam Pomfrey suddenly called out.

"Peeves," Dumbledore yelled, "You know you are forbidden to enter the medical wing."

"My friend invited me," Peeves said.

"Your friend?" asked Dumbledore.

"He means me, Albus," I said.

"I am surprised, my boy, and it takes a lot to surprise me," Dumbledore said, his eyebrows arched. "I find that I have no idea who you are."

  
  


1. Slan (Slawn) Meaning: Goodbye. 

2. Cad e mar a ta tu (Cod eh mar aw taw too) How are you doing

Tu me go maith (Taw may go mah) I am doing fine 

3. Gura slan an scealai (GAW-ra slawn an SCAL-uh)

  
  



	5. September 2: Night

September 2: Night

It was not the most dignified way to attend a meeting. I was propped up in bed, with the others arranged in a circle around me. The infirmary had been changed to a meeting room, with comfortable chairs, and side tables. Molly Weasley sat next to me, determined to mother me as though I were her own kin. Neville sat on my other side, looking nervously at Peeves, who floating in the air between us. Everyone settled into place. Madam Pomfrey excused herself, moving to the doorway to intercept any callers. I looked past the Weasleys at Hagrid, who was putting the Sorting Hat on a stool between Dumbledore and himself. The wand seller, Mr. Olivander, completed our group.

"Shall we start," Dumbledore asked? "I fear this will be a long meeting, so let us try to stick to the essentials. There will be time enough to go into detail. And Owen, if this becomes too much for you, let us know immediately." He gazed around the room, as though he were seeing everyone for the first time.

"Last night, we found our young friend in a serious state. Before he fell unconscious, he made a statement about our subject, Gregory Edward Wyatt. The irony is, Owen, that you said that to the only people who already understood."

I had been expecting this but it still came as a shock to actually hear the words. It was also a relief to know that I did not have to deal with this alone.

"I," said the Sorting Hat, "should repeat my words of last night. Our two new partners need to here them. First, I stated that the boy, Wyatt, was not eleven. As I read his mind, I noticed that he remembered events and details of his supposed life but that none of these memories are more than five weeks old. He has neither lost any memories, nor had any memories erased. These would leave traces. Since the human brain begins recording memories even before birth, Gregory Wyatt did not exist as a human being before July 25 of this year. I had said earlier that he appeared benign, but we may have to rethink that point."

"There is one thing I don't understand," Molly Weasley said, "If the boy suddenly 'appeared,' Why did he appear in this form?" "Why a beggar?" She asked, "Why would he appear as a ragged beggar? That doesn't make sense." The others agreed, but could not give any reasons.

"Ye don't see him," I said, weakly.

"The boy, the boy," Peeves called out. "He has something, he has."

"Ye don't see him," I repeated. I looked around at confused faces, and faltered. Dumbledore urged me to finish my thought. "The poor, the tinkers, the beggars, they're always around. But they aren't the right sort. So when ye see 'em, ye don't. Ye look past 'em, or tay the other side of the street. As long as he avoids the 'proper authorities' he can stand in the middle of the street all day, and no one will notice."

"He's right," Arthur Weasley said, "When we were at the station, and Fred called my attention to him, I looked up and saw the station attendant. I didn't even notice the boy until I followed the attendant's gaze. The boy wasn't a threat so I had ignored him."

"Shall I tell you of his brother?" the Sorting Hat asked. The silence that followed this request was agreement enough. "Timothy Wyatt appears to be six years old. His memories also tell a different story. Unlike his brother, Timothy shows multiple signs that his memory has been tampered with. He has memory blocks so strong I cannot penetrate them. He has had memories removed outright, on occasions too numerous to count. This makes it difficult to determine his actual age just by reading his mind. He is at least ten years older than his physical age suggests, and it is likely that he is more than twenty years older."

"Albus," Madam Pomfrey said from her spot by the doorway, "I want to note that I physically examined both boys. They both appear to be in excellent health for their respective ages. I wish to also note, that this contradicts their supposed lifestyle. They have been living on the streets, yet they should show no signs of vitamin deficiency or malnutrition."

"I guess it's my turn, now," Arthur Weasley said, squeezing his wife's hand in reassurance. "We managed to meet Gregory at the entrance to the Platform, and helped him though. He had a wand with him, and a questionable story, so Molly and I chose to err on tthe boy's behalf. As Molly told me, 'If there is a problem, it's best to know where he is.'"

"It was when we were leaving," Arthur continued, "that Timmy approached us, asking if his brother was alright. We coaxed him into coming with us..."

"Arthur," Molly interrupted, "you should tell them how it happened. Timmy was nervous when he approached us, and after we assured him that his brother was fine, he started to run. Arthur cast a return spell on the boy, and knelt down as Timmy returned. He told the boy, 'Never try to run away from a wizard.' When Arthur said that, the little boy changed his entire attitude. We didn't have to coax him. He would have done anything to stay with us."

Arthur squeezed Molly's hand in thanks, saying, "That's why you are here. I would have glossed over that part, and it could be important." Turning back to the group, he said, "After that Timothy Wyatt was willing to answer every question we asked. He has a fairly extensive knowledge of Greater London, but cannot remember where he lived, except that it was by a library. He knows every major road in the city, but could not tell me the closest one to his neighborhood. As we now know, he has probably lived everywhere, at some point.

"One last point, Timothy told us that Gregory wanted him to go, but he refused. He told his brother to go ahead without him, and that they would meet at the usual spot. Again, Timothy could not tell us where this spot was."

Since I was at the scene, I used that as a pretext to assume charge of the case, as it should have been a minor matter. I used the ministry facilities to search for any information on the two boys, but I found nothing. I've taken the steps of having Scotland Yard do a muggle-style search for any information on the boys. I must tell you, they were a bit amused at the request. They don't usually do searches for 'found' children. And I should also warn you, we will have to deal with someone from social welfare, as a result of my report. If we can come up with a family to foster them, we may be able to keep them from being taken into custody as wards of the crown."

"Can't we just erase their memories?" asked Neville, "the muggle authorities, that is."

"We can," Arthur laughed, "but then they won't remember to do the records search for us."

"Hoist by our own petard," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "We think ourselves so clever, that we can't imagine having to play by muggle rules, even for a little while. I suppose we will need an upstanding family to cover for us."

"The Grangers, sir," said Hagrid. "I've Hermione babysitting the little one, Timmy, down at my hut. We tired him out this afternoon by playing fetch with Fluffy. She's taken with him, and her parents are muggles."

"Hagrid, uh, isn't Fluffy that three-headed dog.?" I asked.

"Aye, he is," Hagrid answered, "and right friendly he is, too."

"But Hagrid, he's so big what kind of ball did ye use?"

"Aw, we didn't use a ball, we used Timmy. Yer sees, we let the lad run out across the field, and when he got far enough away, I'd send Fluffy to fetch him back. It was great watching him scamper after the tyke, then picking him up in one of his mouths. Fluffy would even toss him in the air, from head to head, as he ran back."

He finally noticed the look of utter disbelief on my face, and stopped his description with the words, "It was great fun, really. 'Course Timmy needed a bath real bad when we were done."

"Getting back to the point," Mr. Olivander said, "I don't think it wise to send either child to a muggle home, or any other place outside the school. Despite what we have just heard, I think we should consider Hagrid as the proposed foster father for these children."

Molly Tried to stifle a laugh. "Mr. Olivander, you must be joking? What would these muggles think if they found out that he uses children as play toys for his pet?"

The wand maker refused to back down. "In the proper context, Mrs. Weasley, they would likely take this as a positive. Hagrid is a professional in the field of animal care. Also, he has an impressive record of being able to handle children on a regular basis. He has a steady job, and is well respected by his employers, and his fellow employees, as well as a number of students."

Hagrid laughed, "He sounds like a great man. I'd like to meet him."

Suppressing his own laugh, Mr. Olivander continued, "That is how Hagrid would look in an official report. There is, however, a more important reason. Hagrid lives on the school grounds. We get to have it both ways. The children can be kept here and, if needs be, be kept out of the school at the same time."

"Any objections," asked Dumbledore? "Fine, we will all begin to make arrangements for our guests from social welfare." Albus permitted himself one last smile at the thought of Hagrid as an instant father, then turned to Mr. Olivander, "My good friend, could you tell us about the wand, now?'

Mr Olivander nodded. "As you know, the boy, Gregory, had a wand when he arrived. I examined it this morning when Neville brought him around to my presentation. They made it a total of five, by the way." He paused when Neville started to laugh, then continued, "Hermione Granger was also there, as were the Weasley twins. They were showing me their new line of fake wands. They are talented, but it was inappropriate to the moment.

"As I said, I examined the wand in question, It was made of Yew, 11 inches long, and had a core of what appeared at first to be unicorn hair. On closer examination, it was a hair, but I have no clue as to what type of animal it came from."

"Could it have been human or from a centaur," Arthur asked?

"No, it was nothing I could recognize."

This conclusive statement was met with silence, to be finally broken by Neville.

"It's come to me, then," he said. "I have the distinction of being the first one to notice something was wrong, that it was more than a prank by the Weasley twins. As I went to get off the train, I heard Mr. Weasley, Arthur, talking to the twins and to Gregory. I hesitated to get off, afraid that I might be drawn into the discussion."

"Thank you Neville," Arthur said, breaking into a grin, "for describing my shouting sessions so politely."

"You're welcome," Neville said with a smile. "To continue, as I hesitated I felt an urge, almost a need, to help Gregory. Suddenly, I found myself off the train and walking away. It was Arthur calling me to tell me I was walking the wrong way that made me catch myself. I realized what was happening, so I deliberately lied about losing Trevor. I then ran to Hagrid, and told him everything I could about the compulsion I was feeling. That is how I became involved in this nightmare."

I stared at him, trying to understand how Neville could say that. "He impressed all of the first-years with the way he got us into the boats. He made it seem like we were just starting our great journey to Hogwarts, instead of taking the last step. He even let us play our instruments, the Tinker and I. Almost all of the rest agreed that the music made the trip across the lake that much more grand. Add to this, that he knew about the Tinker all along. My admiration for him had risen even more. Then he called it a nightmare, as though it was something he could not get out of. If he was afraid, and kept going, how could I do any less.

"It's my turn now," I said.

"NO. My turn," said Peeves. He then proceeded to speak with what was, for him, an unnatural skill and in a serious tone. "I was watching Professor Trelawny sleep."

Peeves smiled, knowing he had everyone's attention. "She mumbles in her sleep. Sometimes she does. This time she did more. She sits up suddenly. She looked at me. She looked straight at me. And she says this: 'He has come. He walks a fearful pace. The watcher sees that he is near. The terror stalking in pleasant face, is forced to shed a bitter tear.' When she was done, she settled back to sleep. This frightened me. I fled. I fled. I sha'nt go back."

"That is significant, Peeves, if it could frighten someone like you," Dumbledore assured the Poltergeist, "When did this happen?"

Peeves shook his head, "It took place that day Neville Longbottom was born."

Neville shifted nervously at being the sudden center of attention, nor could I blame him. As it was, My turn to speak had come. Now I would be the center of attention, and add my own tale to the nightmare.

"Owen, do you feel up to it," Molly asked. I nodded, smiling to reassure her. 

"I do, um, Molly, but it is hard getting used to calling so many adults by their givens."

"You'll get used to it," Neville said, forcing a grin out of me.

Trying to relax, I prepared myself to speak my part, saying softly, "Gura slan an scealai."

Dumbledore looked closely at me when I said that. "Owen, your cousin, Fiona, said the same thing as she left the infirmary earlier today. What does that mean?"

"It was a blessing my grandfather said whenever the post arrived," I told him. I looked into his eyes, and said, "May the bearer of the news be safe."

"He is born" clearly refers to Neville, and I think it is obvious who 'the terror' is. I have the feeling that I am "the watcher," although I can't say why. And then there is the last line.

"One of my favorite authors is a man by the name of Lewis Carroll," I told them. "He once wrote a poem, 'The Walrus and the Carpenter.' Is anyone else familiar with it?" Having set the stage, I began to tell my tale.

As I uttered the first words, I felt my mouth dry up. Memories, held at bay, rushed at me faster than I could speak. I felt something in my head, and I had a feeling that somehow I had hit a tripwire and set off a trap. Then everything went white, as pain coursed through my body. Almost as quickly, everything went black.

  
  



	6. September 7: Mornong

September 7, Morning

I awoke in the infirmary. I looked around and saw Molly Weasley sitting by my side, reading a newspaper. It was clear she had been there for a while, possibly all night. I started to say good morning, but began to choke. Molly was by my side, at once. "Don't try to talk, Owen," she told me in a voice that rivaled Mam's. Instinctively, I obeyed.

Madam Pomfrey walked into the room, and told Mrs. Weasley to bring Dumbledore. She then stood in front of me, and grabbed my head, forcing me to look down. "Owen," she said in an overly stern voice, "Under NO circumstances are you to try to speak. Do not try to nod your head or show any reaction to what I say. If you do, you will feel pain. Do not react to what I said."

She let go of my head, and I tried to nod. A spasm of pain shot through my body.

"You have a curse," she told me, "and a nasty one. Whoever is responsible doesn't want you talking about that night, so they laid a little trap for you. As soon as you tried to tell us, the curse fell on you. You can't speak, you can't write, you can't even nod your head. You cannot communicate with anyone one in any way or you will feel pain. To make matters worse, we can't figure out how to break the curse. I'm sorry, Owen."

Madam Pomfrey was wrong. I could react in at least one way. The tears flowing down my cheeks showed I could cry. I didn't find out until later how she knew all the details of this curse, but when I found out, I would be grateful that I did not remember that part.

It quickly became the habit for the others of our group to talk to each other in my presence, literally talking behind my back. Albus assured them that I needed to be kept informed, even in my condition. That is how I found out I would go to Gryffindor house. It was an absurd notion, I thought. If I cannot relate to anyone, why put me around people. I would have to trust Albus in this decision. I was, again literally, in no condition to argue.

Albus called Neville to meet him in the infirmary. "Neville, I want to thank you for your help with Gregory. I am not sure I understand his trust in you, but it is good to know we can use it."

"Thank you, Sir," Neville responded, "But there is a problem with that. It might just be my imagination but Gregory thinks I'm trustworthy, and now it seems that more and more people are looking up to me. Students I barely know are asking me for advice."

Albus frowned, "He cursed Owen to keep him from revealing his secret, and now he has charmed you to make people trust you. A curious problem, but at least you benefit from all of this."

"Uh, Albus," Neville continued, "there are a couple of other problems. Gregory also thinks that Ginny is my girlfriend."

"And now everyone else does? How did this happen?"

"It was at the welcoming feast. Ginny was sitting next to me, and she noticed the Ravenclaw first years looking at us. She brought my attention to them, and when I waved, they reacted with enthusiasm. Ginny asked why, and I told her how I had helped yo get them in the boats, when Hagrid left to see about Gregory. I commented that I had apparently done a fine job. Ginny told me I was very sweet and gave me a peck on the cheek."

Neville paused in his tale. "I should add that her father appeared right after this. He came up behind Ginny and said, 'Hi, Honey." Hearing his voice surprised Ginny that she almost jumped on the table. At the time it was rather funny, but then Arthur asked to speak to me after dinner. Ginny wanted to know what was going on, and I told her that they wanted to ask me about Gregory. That was when I looked over and saw him and his new friends watching me.

"It seems that these events, seen across the hall, told them a different tale. That Ginny kissed me was proof we were going together. That Arthur interrupted when he did was proof that he did not approve, and that would explain why we both deny everything. Unfortunately, now we are 'known' to be a couple. Ginny is climbing the walls because every time she says it isn't true, she gets a 'knowing' smile."

Albus was grinning at this problem. I even had a small grin, carefully hidden. Neville didn't appreciate it. "Please, Albus, It isn't funny. That's one of the areas people keep asking my advice about."

I couldn't help it. I actually fell out of bed laughing. I was carefully ignored, once they were assured I wasn't hurt. I don't think they realized I was paying attention, because they both had confused expressions when I glimpsed their faces.

Of course, Ron Weasley hates me for making passes at his sister, and the twins keep reassuring me that they trust me with Ginny. It's hard for me, Sir. It was only last week I was Neville who keeps losing his toad."

I had a shock at that. I had thought I was only in the infirmary for two days. I've lost five days already. I would have to keep listening.

"If Owen follows you, Neville," Dumbledore said, "take him back to your common room. We'll see if he can make his classes. We can't risk putting him back in Ravenclaw, while Gregory is still an unknown item." I listened as Albus muttered to himself, "if only I could risk removing that boy."

As Neville left, I put on a robe and slippers and followed him. Peeves appeared and began whispering in my ear, floating with me as I walked. "I know about the box. You are smart, you are." He left before I could react.

Neville began talking to himself, "Let me see, today is Saturday. The lady from social welfare is coming tomorrow to see Gregory. There is a music teacher coming as well. Timmy, the brother, is happy at his new school in Hogsmeade. He also likes Hermione Granger as his favorite babysitter." He said the last part with a laugh. "The feeling isn't mutual."

As we approached Gryffindor, the portrait covering the entrance moved aside. "The Fat Lady has been told to open any time that you approach. This way you don't have to worry about how to get in or out."

Neville had warned everyone about my condition. Naturally, when I was brought into the Gryffindor common room, I found it crowded with all of them trying to get a good look at the student they have to ignore. Most were disappointed then and there. All they saw was a skinny boy with black hair and red eyes. From some of the remarks I overheard, the Tinker had done more than make people like Neville. Everyone seemed to know me as well, and their attitude could not be described as friendly.

I looked around, trying not to see anybody but trying to mark the room I was in. It was crowded, with all of the students here, unlike the Ravenclaw house. Our Common Room was larger, with a circular fire place in the middle of a round room, with a recessed second floor. Ravenclaw was like sitting in a nest. We even had a balcony, which was called the Perch. Gryffindor was different. It looked and felt 'royal' for lack of a better word. I felt as though I were in a miniature castle. I had the thought that I could refer to the Gryffindors as squires instead of students and no one would object.

Neville showed me where my bed was, a closet that had been cleared out. "Albus said it would be best to have you around people, but still give you means to keep your privacy. The only other choice was to keep feeding you sleeping potions in the infirmary." He took me back to the common room, showing where they had placed a chair in front of a window, but near enough to the fireplace, so that I would have the light. I thought about how lucky I was. Now I could be kept away from everyone, while still being in the same room.

I sat down in the chair, and took the book someone had placed on the side table. It was by Lewis Carroll, "Through the Looking Glass." A piece of paper marked the page where the poem, "The Walrus and the Carpenter," began. On the paper was a note from Walter. "I showed them the poem, they liked the part about the bitter tear, but they wouldn't say why. I doubt they plan on going to the beach. I heard about your problem. Listen to Hermione if you want help." There was a postscript, saying, "If you can't take the hint, I'll talk to her myself."

It was a curious note, but then Walter is not, and I believe refuses to be, your normal student. I had just finished the note when I heard Hermione come in. She was muttering, "I hate him, I hate him!"

"Hate who?" I heard Ginny ask.

"Hermione, you're filthy," I heard another voice say.

"I hadn't noticed, Ron. Thank you for pointing it out," Hermione said sarcastically.

"Hermione," Ginny called, "just tell us what happened."

I could hear Hermione scowling, and I thought about what Walter had written. I got out of the chair, and stood next to it, so that I could face the fifth year student.

Hermione let loose with her tale. "First of all, that brat runs away from me and jumps in the lake, clothes and all. When I finally fish him out, the six-year-old from hell runs over to play with Fang. There he was, rolling around in the dirt and mud and the other stuff, laughing his head off. Then I had to wrestle him into a bath. Just as I'm ready to murder him, he puts his arms around my neck, and tells me he loves me."

"Awww," said Ginny and Ron together. I let out a giggle.

"Who are you?" Hermione asked. I quickly hid my eyes and sat back in my 'hiding' chair.

"Don't talk to him," Ginny quickly told Hermione. "He's the Ravenclaw boy. The one that was cursed."

"I've been busy with Timmy. I never heard the full story. What kind of curse?"

"He can't talk to anyone, or make gestures, or write anything. If he tries to, something happens."

"What's his name?" Hermione asked.

"Who cares, " said Ron.

"I do, Ron. That boy has a problem, and maybe I can't do anything, but I will try. And, Ron, you are going to help me."

"Me? Why?"

"Because you have a brother who is a professional curse breaker. We are going to make a list of all of the symptoms, and you will then owl Bill and ask his advice."

"You'd do all that for a git like him."

"I would do that, and more for Draco Malfoy," Hermione said in closing.

I heard footsteps and felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see Hermione standing there. "If I can help, I will," she told me. A sign of happiness escaped my lips at the thought.

Then I was on the floor. Pain began shooting across my chest, and down my arms and legs. Screams escaped, as I tried to control myself. I could vaguely hear Neville yelling to Hermione, "Don't help him. You can't help him. It will only make things worse."

An hour later I was drinking some warm tea that had appeared without my notice. I heard someone come up, half seeing him out of the corner of my eye. It was Harry Potter. I carefully stared straight ahead, looking out the window, while he talked.

"Neville told me your problem, and asked for my help. I want you to know that I'm doing this for Neville, and not for somebody like you. From what I've heard, you got what you deserved, that's why no one else will help you. Lucky for you, I'd do almost anything for Neville." He threw a package on my lap. "It's my invisibility cloak. Since you have to avoid people, this will help you out. I know I wouldn't mind not seeing you around."

As he was walking away he did something strange. He apologized. "I'm sorry I said that. I didn't mean it. When Neville asked me, I thought it was an excellent idea." He walked away a few more steps.

"I think it's your curse. Once I started to talk to you, I couldn't stand to be near you, but now that I'm moving away, the feeling is growing weaker. I'll let Hermione know. She's in the library right now." I pondered what he said as his footsteps faded.

That explained a lot, and nothing at all. Harry Potter and most of the Gryffindors were affected by the curse, if what Harry said was true. The exceptions were Neville and Hermione Granger, but why. None of the adults I have had contact with were affected, either. Throw in Peeves comment about the box, and I had a lot to think about.

It was an interesting evening, and I had one more mild surprise before it ended. I went back to where my bed was, It was in a storage closet that had been emptied out. It was big enough for a bed, night table and chair. My trunk was under the bed as usual. I crawled into bed, and leaned my head against the wall. This would be the first time at the school that I would fall asleep on my own. I felt the tears welling in my eyes at the state I was in.

I heard the door to the closet open, and someone walked in with a lamp. The lamp was placed on the table, and I heard them sit down. I heard a book open, and an older woman began to read. I vaguely recognized her voice.

"In a hole in the ground there lives a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort." (1)   
  


I fell asleep with a smile on my lips, dreaming of wizards and dwarves.

  
  


1. The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien, chapter 1, first paragraph.

  
  



	7. September 8: Morning

September 8: Morning

It was Sunday morning, and I awoke alone and in the dark closet. At first I had thought it a mad idea to remove me from the infirmary, but now I knew better. I had been shown, in numerous ways, that I was being helped. In turn, it made me stronger for the days ahead.

I arose and dressed, then left for breakfast, careful not to look at anyone. I had to grin at how quickly I had adapted to my role. I could not turn away every thought or reaction, and would occasionally twitch as a result, but I did rather well.

Breakfast started of badly. A pair of Slytherins began to accost me in the hall. I would have faltered but I knew that I had allies. As one of the pair pushed me against the wall, Peeves appeared, screaming, "Students Fighting, Students Fighting." A teacher came in reaction to the shouting and issued detentions to the two offenders. Disparaging remarks followed this incident, but it was easier than I thought to ignore these. I did learn one thing though, the curse was not complete. As Peeves chased the two students, I grinned at what was happening. I felt no pain, until someone saw me. It had happened before, I thought, when I laughed in the infirmary, and with Hermione in the common room.

Apparently, I could express myself physically, as long as no one knew what I was doing. It was not a great discovery, but it taught me that this spell had limits. And that gave me hope.

After breakfast I wandered back to the Gryffindor common room, by the simple expedient of following someone. Then I retrieved the cloak that had been lent to me. Some things were happening today that I was supposed to see.

I found a convenient alcove to hide in, and threw on the cloak. The most convenient thing was I could see Arthur Weasley, standing near Dumbledore's office, waiting to greet the new arrivals. Also, I could see Neville escorting the music teacher, Madam Montague. Neville had told me about her, yesterday, while we walked to Gryffindor. She was sent by the ministry. She was retired, and an old friend of the minister. The idea of adding a music class to the curriculum was an excellent excuse to give her something to do. I was not prepared for the lady from social welfare, however. It was Mam.

Pain reflex kept me from calling out. Arthur did hear the noise I made, and turned around. He looked straight at where I was standing, smiled, and turned back to great the guests.

"Hello Claire," he said to Mam.

"Arthur, you look as handsome as ever." Mam said, changing his handshake to a hug.

"If you will excuse me," Mrs. Montague said, "I'll walk on ahead to the headmaster's office. Neville will show me the way." Before Arthur could say anything, she waved him off. "Claire told me all about you, while we were on the train. The two of you have a lot of catching up to do." She and Neville walked off, pausing as they walked past the alcove I was hiding in. They smiled at each other, then continued walking. I grinned at the thought that, for wearing an invisibility cloak, a lot of people seemed to know where I was.

"How is my favorite first-year?" Arthur asked.

"With a first-year of my own, now," Mam said. "How is he, Arthur?" She asked, concern heavy in her voice.

Arthur led her to an empty classroom, leaving the door open for my benefit.

"Better than we hoped. We can't ask him anything, of course, but we try to give him all the information we can. Also, I think something happened this morning, for the better. He was nervous when he went to breakfast, but came back with a sense of confidence. I just wish we could figure out what happened."

"Have you thought of using the Sorting Hat? Surely it could...."

"Claire," Arthur interrupted, "We tried that, he was unconscious for two days. We tried to get hold of you earlier..."

"I know, Arthur, but you couldn't find me. Neville told me how Molly stayed with him. Tell her I do appreciate it. I know what she thinks of me."

Arthur laughed, "she hasn't been jealous of you for years, ever since you got married."

"I know, I know, I feel I should apologize for marrying late. I couldn't help it. Sean would not settle down, and I was always busy with my work. Besides, you were five years ahead of me, and had two children already by the time I graduated. I couldn't steal you away if I tried."

"You might have tried. Molly was always afraid of that. She always thought we were sneaking around together when we were in school."

"But Arthur, we were sneaking around. How else could this poor little first year learn the tricks of the trade from the big strong sixth year?"

I saw Arthur smile at that, when he paused, as if sniffing the air. "I'm sorry, Claire, I'm being rude. I don't know if you remember the twins. Boys, come and meet an old friend of your father." The two embarrassed boys came out of the coat closet. "Fred, George, this is a former classmate of mine, Claire O'Donnell."

"Oh, Arthur," Mam said, "They're following in the family tradition. You taught them well. I never even knew they were there."

"Family tradition?" Fred asked quizzically.

"You never told them?" Mam said.

"I promised Molly," Arthur said. "After we graduated, I never told anyone."

"Dad," George said, "You've got to tell us what you never said." Then he smiled and added, "if you don't, we'll tell Mom you did."

"You've got to tell us," Fred told him, "And we won't tell anyone if you don't want us to. And that's a Weasley promise."

"You see, Arthur, Your boys take after you in every way," Mam said, her eyes filled with mischief. "Why don't I tell them? This way, you won't break your promise. At Arthur's smile, she turned to the twins. "This probably won't mean anything to you but when your father was in school he was known to a select group of friends as the Masked Marauder..."

"The Masked Marauder," Fred sputtered, "But he's famous."

"They still talk about the time he turned every student in Slytherin bright green," George added.

"The ministry added three protection spells to the school grounds, just because of him, you" added Fred. 

The two boys looked at their father in newfound awe. 

"I haven't heard that name in years," Arthur said. "It does bring back memories." He looked at Fred and George, and said, "You gave me your word. Remember that." The twins agreed. Turning back to Mam, Arthur said, "I have to ask you then, do you remember my cloak."

"The one you gave me when you graduated? Of course I do. I passed it on, to a young Gryffindor named James Potter. He already had his own group. They called themselves the marauders, in memory of you, of the Masked Marauder, that is. They even duplicated your map," adding slyly, "with a little help."

"Dad," said George, "don't tell me you created the Marauders map, too?"

"You know of that?" Mam asked with surprise.

"We found it, uh, somewhere," said Fred, "We gave it to Harry Potter."

Mam looked surprised, not that I could blame her.

I could tell Arthur Weasley was enjoying this. He had a chance to show off to his children, and was loving every minute.

"As to the cloak," he continued, "because of the troubles, James left it in Dumbledore's care," Arthur explained, "and he passed it on, to Harry."

"Wonderful," Mam said.

"And, Harry was talked into lending it to Owen." Arthur pointed, but missed me by five feet.

Mam hugged him again, but said, "Go bhfaire Dia Orainn." (1)

When Mam released Arthur, both Fred and George made it a point to express their sympathy. It was ironic because, thanks to the curse, if they had tried to talk to me their attitudes would have been less than kind.

"Boys," said Arthur, "we need to talk in private, now, if you don't mind."

The twins nodded, and headed toward the door. They stopped and turned around, and George asked, "About the Slytherins, Dad. Why did you turn them Green?"

"Why didn't you use Gryffindor colors?" Fred asked.

"Oh, he did it for me," Mam answered, looking at Arthur and smiling, "It was Saint Patrick's Day."

As the twins left, laughing, Arthur stopped them. "By the way, Fred, George, the map wasn't my idea. I copied it from someone else. We'll talk later." Then he closed the door.

"Will they tell anyone?" Mam asked.

"Not without my permission," Arthur said. "They made a Weasley promise." Then he became serious.

"Claire, I need to talk to you, about what is going on. We need you to approve the temporary fosterage we've asked for."

Mam laughed at him. "Arthur Weasley, do you think I will give you a rubber stamp on this matter, simply because you tell me to. And before you say anything, I already interviewed Rubeus Hagrid. He and Timmy were playing fetch with his dog, Fluffy, or should I say that the other way around? And I understand this was not the first time. I now understand your comments about his training animals, and being used to dealing with children."

"Timmy does enjoy playing with Fluffy," Arthur argued, "And I know you didn't start this job yesterday, but..."

"To be honest, I did," Mam interrupted.

Did you ever get the feeling that you never know someone? I had that feeling about my own mother. Arthur had the same feeling. At least, his mouth was hanging open as much as mine was. Then Mam dropped her bombshell.

"The Department was very curious why someone from Muggle Artifacts would take responsibility in a simple trespassing case. Our curiosity increased when that same person filed a request for fosterage on behalf of a Hogwarts teacher. I was already called in on the case because of my earlier relationship with this individual, when I received the owl about my son. My superior, Elizabeth Montague, immediately arranged for me to accompany her."

"The music teacher?" Arthur asked.

"My division chief," Mam said, in her authority voice. "By the way, Arthur, and you as well, Owen Dugh, this case is now under the jurisdiction of The Department of Mysteries. If you say anything to anyone, without express permission of the Department, you will face up to five years at Azkaban." She looked around. "Owen is still here, isn't he?" Mam asked Arthur.

I thought it safe to do, so I kicked a chair with my leg, just to make a noise. I was wrong. Fire shot through my body, while something gripped my chest so I could not breathe. I fell down, thrashing on the floor, half covered by the cloak.

I recovered quickly, but Mam, who had been a stone wall minutes earlier, was crying hysterically in Arthur's arms. I knew it was hard for her to see me like that, but the worst thing was that I couldn't even tell her that I was all right again. I could only watch from beneath the cloak as Arthur tried to comfort her. If I could, I would have killed the Tinker right on the spot, I hated him that much.

Mam recovered slowly. When she spoke her voice trembled. "He reminded me so much of that night, Arthur." Arthur Weasley didn't understand the remark, but he made it a point not to say so.

  
  


I remembered that night. I doubt I could ever forget. I was eight, and Fergus was six. Da still ran the pub in Antrim, with live music on the weekends. That is what caused the trouble. The peace movement was going strong, and everyone was making an effort to break down the old barriers. Da decided to do his bit, and booked a popular local band, even though they were Catholic. It would have been nothing, except that the Bully Boys (2) decided to make an example that weekend, to keep things from going too far.

The only unusual thing I noticed was a tall thin man, who started hanging around the neighborhood. One of my friends said he was a spotter for the Provo"s, (3) 

"keepin' an eye out, just in case." We started playing hide and seek with him, trying to spy on the spy. He didn't object when he noticed us, or cause any trouble, and he was always polite. Once, he walked past Fergus, who was hiding behind a trash bin. Without missing a step he said, "Ye'd best find a better place to hide. Tha' one's too open." Fergus called out his thanks, and the man waved back. I rolled my eyes at that, and gave Fergus a big lecture on how spies do not talk to the enemy.

It was Saturday night, and I was just being sent to bed, when a petrol bomb was thrown through the front window. Someone said later that the Bully Boys planned to blame the IRA.

As everyone scrambled, Da told me to get Fergus and get out. I heard gunshots as the people began to leave the pub, and they started to panic. I ran and grabbed Fergus out of his bed, and we fled out the back. Rocks came flying at us. One caught me in the side, and I went down. I heard Fergus go back inside, but I couldn't do anything but cover my head.

A shot rang out, and a man's voice cried, "Ye cowards, all of ye. Attackin' children now." I heard several pairs of feet running, then the man picked me up. It was the Provo. "C'mon, lad, we'll get ye to safety," he said. I pointed to the back door, "Fergus, he went back in."

The fire had already reached the kitchen. The Provo grabbed a handkerchief and covered his mouth as he ran inside. Less than a minute later, he was back, with Fergus coughing and crying in his arms. Da was there to see this. The man nodded to Da, and passed Fergus to him. He told Da, "best if ye leave, I can't do any more for ye." Then he patted my bloody hair and wished me luck. The barriers had come back up, and we were on the other side.

Da is a fighter. He hates to give up. But he had me and Fergus, and Mam was carrying Deirdre. What could he do? We took everything we could salvage, and left for the Republic. Mam checked my head every day until the last scrape healed. She has me part my hair in the middle to hide the scar, not a famous scar, from a fight with an evil wizard, just an ordinary one, from a jagged rock.

  
  


1. Go bhfaire Dia Orainn (GO WEER-uh DYEE-uh O-run) May God help us. 

2. Bully Boys Originally the B-specials, a volunteer force (protestant) to help the RUC (Royal Ulster Constabulary) The term is now one of many nicknames for the violent Protestant groups. 

3. Provo's Provisional Irish Republican Army. Broke off from the IRA in the 70's over principles. Considered the most violent Catholic Group.

  
  



	8. September 8: Evening

September 8, Evening

I was in the infirmary again. This time it was for another meeting. Madam Pomfrey had screened off an area for me to stand behind. Albus had thoughtfully placed a silence spell on the area. No one could see me or hear any noise I made, but I would still be able to see and hear everyone clearly. It was almost like being in the theater.

Mam wouldn't be there. After what happened in the classroom, she was easily persuaded to spend the time interviewing the Tinker. She was using her maiden name to avoid any possible problems.

The Sorting Hat had also retired itself from the group, until it had something more to contribute. Mr. Olivander had left as well. He would be in touch, but he could not leave his shop for too long. 

Madam Montague was there in place of Mam. It turned out that she really is to be the music teacher. She and Albus had talked for years about setting up a music class, but it was only until now, with someone who clearly had musical talent coming to the school, that they were able to pull enough strings to make the addition to the curriculum. My ego was quickly deflated, however, when she mentioned Fiona.

The meeting started with Madam Montague. "As Claire has mentioned to some of you, this case is now under the jurisdiction of the Department of Mysteries. All of you must now abide by the Secrecy Act of 1863, (1) and you may not reveal anything of this case without clearance. I can also assure you, you will not get clearance."

She handed a parchment to Arthur Weasley, telling him, "Effective immediately, you are attached to the Department as a consultant, with a monthly stipend for your services. This will be in addition to your regular duties with Muggle Artifacts. To avoid inquiries as to your increased income, it will be noted as a bequest from an obscure relative who remembered you in the will."

"In other words, you're bribing me to keep my mouth shut," Arthur said, unrolling the parchment. "I'm speechless," he added as he finished reading.

"Oh my," Molly said, as she read the parchment.

Madam Montague smiled, saying, "don't be too surprised, Arthur. The way you've handled this incident so far has been admirable. You've earned every knut."

"We've received the report from Scotland Yard on the Wyatt family," she continued. "I've already discussed this with Albus, and he will have something to add, when I am finished.

As to the family, both parents, and the eldest son, Gregory, aged 9, were killed in an automobile accident in January of 1974. According to the official records, Their car hit a patch of ice, and was thrown off the road. The younger son, Timothy, aged 6, was listed as missing, presumed dead."

"It's a shame," said Hagrid, "the little tyke is older than any kid in the school, and he doesn't even know it. That's why he's got all them blanks spots in his head."

"Sadly, yes," Albus agreed. "It also explains the memory blocks. They keep him from remembering his family. Yet, I did discover one thing about the boy that may explain how he survived the accident. I checked the lists of all children born or raised in Great Britain who have magical abilities. He is listed with those of his age group, and I would guess that his name keeps moving down the list as the others get older. Also, to beat you to the obvious question, I already asked the Sorting Hat why it did not notice. The Hat explained that the boy had so many spells performed on him, that it was simply impossible to tell."

"He has magic in him," Molly Weasley said, "will wonders never cease? I hope Claire does right by him."

"Excuse me, Madam Montague," Neville asked at this point, "I hope I am not too forward, but is it proper to have someone in your department doing social work."

"Claire is well qualified," Madam Montague said, "During Voldemort's first rising, that is what she did. There were a significant number of orphans and abandoned children to deal with. I would not be surprised if she handled your case, Neville, after your unfortunate circumstances. And please, Neville, call me Elizabeth."

A brief silence followed. I did not know the story, and felt it better not to think about it. What scared me was when she mentioned Voldemort. It was like the day the teacher told us about World War One. You don't say it like that unless it happened again.

As Albus asked if anyone had anything to add, I looked at Peeves. He had mentioned knowing about the box, but know one else had said anything. Peeved looked nervous, but when Albus went to declare an end to the meeting, he spoke up.

"He is my friend," Peeves said. "I don't want to tell. It would be a good secret. I watched the Tinker. I did this for Owen. The Tinker has a box."

"Do you mean the green box he keeps the pennywhistle in?" asked Albus.

"Yes," said Peeves. "He ALWAYS has that box. He even has the box in his bed."

"What if someone tried to take the box?" mused Arthur aloud. I wished I could shout. He had touched on the source of my problem.

"Oh, my," said Madam Montague, "That answers one question, and begs another. Why is the box do important? And why would Owen try to take the box? I will be very happy when I am done with this case."

  
  


As the meeting ended, I watched Peeves float away through the wall. Elizabeth Montague excused herself after some small talk. Neville also bade everyone farewell.

"He still doesn't know?" Arthur asked Albus.

"I haven't had the heart to tell him," Dumbledore replied. "He thinks everybody likes him because of a charm that has been placed on him. If he finds out that isn't true, he may retreat to his old shell. He might once again become 'Neville who lost his toad,' as he so quaintly put it."

"He'll never figure out what's going on with Ginny, I can tell you that," Molly said.

When Albus gave her a curious look, she added, "I've been watching my daughter, the way she follows him around, for one reason or another. No wonder everyone thinks they're a couple. But that girl has to figure out what she wants first, before Neville will be able to understand any of it."

"Molly," her husband said, "you make it sound like they might become serious."

"And they might, once they get their act together. Mark my words, down the road you'll be looking at Neville as a possible son-in-law."

Arthur laughed a little, "I'm sure Neville is a nice enough boy..."

I watched as Molly burst out in a full belly laugh. "Those are the exact words my father, and my brother Darren, used about you."

"I don't think I've ever heard you talk of your brother before," Albus said.

"He's an accountant," Arthur said in embarrassment.

I was surprised to hear that. "Go n-ithe an cat thu is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat," (2) 

I thought angrily. I was so mad I almost missed Dumbledore's response.

"It is odd to hear you say that. Owen says I remind him of his uncle. You did know Darren married Owen's Aunt Jessica?"

Through the screen, I could see the Weasleys were ashamed. It's hard, learning what someone can do, when you've ignore them because of what they can't do. Fergus taught me that.

  
  


1. Secrecy Act of 1863, Standards of Conduct and Control, Section 8, Statutes 16 thru 34. 

2. Go n-ithe an cat thu is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat (Gow nih awn caht hoo is gow nih an DEH-vul awn caht) Meaning: May the cat eat you, and may the devil eat the cat.

  
  



	9. September 14: Morning

September 14, Morning

It had been an interesting week. Thanks to the invisibility cloak, I was able to go almost anywhere without difficulty. I still had problems with classes, but this was solved by a simple expedient. I was excused from attending. Instead, I would sit in a private corner of the library, and read. Books would always be waiting for me, with passages marked. Some classes, such as Care of Magical Creatures, and Flying, I missed out on entirely.

Hermione would stop by regularly, letting me know of her progress. Yesterday afternoon, she came to me, excited, saying that she was sending Walter to talk to me. Walter came by and said, "Hello." Then he added, "I think Hermione's on to something. I'll talk to you later." The only thing his visit told me was that he was also unaffected by the curse.

As I wandered the corridors, I did learn quite a bit of gossip on Neville and Ginny. For a large number of students, mostly female, this was the only subject for discussion. They mostly agreed with Molly that Ginny doesn't know how she feels about Neville. This was commented about on a regular basis, with laughter usually following. The older students would then start talking about their first crushes. If possible, I would quickly slip away at this point.

Most of the male student, when they talk about it, discuss the reactions of the Weasley brothers. From what I overheard, they have either Ron, one of the twins, or all three, looking for a way to remove Neville from the scene. Neville, on the other hand, had become so involved in helping me, that he considered Ginny to be more of a nuisance than anything else.

At first I was surprised that almost no one talked about me. But the more I thought about it, I understood there was not much to talk about. All they could say is "He's still cursed."

I did make an effort to spy on the Tinker. I even had a chance to overhear him talking with Fiona and Mary. It was frustrating.

"Should we try to see him?" Fiona had asked as they walked by me.

Mary put her arm around Fiona, saying, "You know what Professor Flitwick told us, it will only make him worse."

"She's right Fiona." the Tinker said, "He's the first real friend I've ever had, and now I can't even say hello to him."

"I know it must be hard for you, Gregory," Fiona said, "You don't have any family to turn to. I have plenty of family, but it still doesn't help."

"I can still wish he were better," The Tinker replied.

"Don't we all," said Mary as they turned the corner.

The lying diabhal was sharing their sympathy, as though he had no idea how it happened. I controlled my anger, taking comfort in knowing that it was only a matter of time before I got my hands on him. There had to be a way, and I would find it.

That is where things stood when I went to bed Friday night. I was lying in my usual position, facing the wall with my blanket over my head, when the door opened. I was eager to find out what the travelers were to find in Mirkwood, but instead of my late night story teller, I heard Ginny's voice.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were here," she said. "Do you mind if we talk for a bit? Well, if I talk, I know you can't talk. I just need to talk for a bit. I hope you don't mind?" Then I heard her sit down. "This is what it must have been like for Harry. He grew up in a closet, you know. Am I bothering you?"

As you know, I have a curse placed on me. I cannot speak to anyone, or gesture, or try to communicate in any way. If I do, I suffer a great deal of pain. As a side effect of the curse, anyone who tries to talk to me is overcome by a feeling of disgust. Ginny, to my regret, was another one of the few people immune to this part of the curse. But if she continued in this vein for much longer, I was fully prepared to stand up and demand that she get to the point. I would have thought her the least likely person to ramble.

"Owen, what is it about you and Neville. I keep trying to put the pieces together and the two of you are always there." She laughed lightly, adding, "I just asked a question to the only person who can't answer it. I'm sorry, Owen." Then she closed the door and lowered her voice.

"I'm afraid, and I don't know who to talk to. Everyone says Neville and I look good together. I keep denying it, and so does he, but I'm not sure anymore. I mean, it hasn't even been two weeks since we came back to school. I can't like Neville, not that way. He's almost a joke in this school." She paused, then added sadly, "at least he was. What if he doesn't like me? What if he thinks I'm only doing this now that he's popular?"

'What if you go back to bed and leave me alone?' I thought. I added one more thing to my things-to-do list for when I was cured: Ask Ginny Weasley why she sought advice on her love life from an eleven-year-old. I was willing to ignore that fact that I couldn't reply.

At that point, the door opened. It was my story teller.

"Ah, Miss Weasley," she said, "It is good to see that some of the students are making an effort to keep up the morale of our guest."

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall." Ginny said, "I guess I should be leaving now."

I should have realized who it was, reading to me, earlier than this. The Sorting Day seemed do long ago. I had not remembered her until now.

"Miss Weasley, if you would do me a favor, " McGonagall said, "I have been taking time I can ill afford, to read to young Owen. If you would take over this chore for me, I would appreciate it. I've marked the place in the book where I've left off. All you need to do is read the next chapter, aloud. And turn out down the lamp when you leave."

'Connhanaich Gael,' I thought, 'now I have to put up with her, all night.' But it turned out not to be that bad. Ginny had a freshness in her reading. I even appreciated her few comments, such as "Ron would love this." She said this right after a nasty scene with the spiders and the dwarves. I fell asleep to her singing Bilbo's taunts of "Lazy Lob and Crazy Cob."

  
  


I awoke early as I am wont to do, even though it was Saturday. The first thing I noticed was that the lamp had not been turned down. Carefully, I turned over, to see Ginny sleeping in the chair. Her feet were propped up on the table, barely missing the lamp. The book she had been reading was sitting open in her lap. I knew what had happened. She had become interested in the book, continued to read it, and had nodded off before she finished.

She was sleeping quite soundly, but I had a serious problem. I had a personal need to take care of, and the bathrooms, as well as the rest of the world, were on the other side of the closet door. The bed took up more than half the space of the closet. The chair on one side of the door, and the table on the other side, took up most of what was left. Ginny was stretched out across the remaining free space.

I could not risk waking Ginny, and I knew I could not wait for her to wake up. Therefore, I did the only thing I could. I tried to step over her. I leaned over and put my right hand on the door for support. After that, I lifted my right leg over, trying to set it down between the door and my uninvited guest. My leg was almost to the ground, when the door suddenly opened, and I lost my support. I immediately fell into Ginny's lap, my head barely missing her chin.

"Oh, they're still sleeping, 'Mione," said a very young voice. Ginny woke up with a start, looked me in the eye, and asked, "Owen, what do you think you're doing."

"Ginny, how could you? What will Neville say?" I heard Walter say, as several people started to laugh.

"Please, don't any of ye know how to knock?" I said, burying my head into Ginny's neck. I was mortified. I did not even realize that I had spoken.

I managed to get up, a difficult thing to do when everyone, including the person you've fallen on, is laughing at you. For the first time in to weeks, I was able to talk to somebody, and I did not want to talk to anyone.

As I got to my feet a blond buachaillin (1), I assumed it was Timothy, accosted me. "Hermione said we should be friends, OK?"

"Sure," I said, "I'll be friends with ye."

"OK, we're friends," He said, adding, "you talk funny."

"I don't talk funny, Glashtin (2)," I told him, "Ye be the one as talks funny. Just listen while ye talk and ye'll see." It was a long time since I used that voice, It always worked on Fergus, and by the way he was carefully saying words, It was working on Timothy as well.

"Get dressed," Hermione told me, "I'll explain over breakfast."

  
  


"Go mba seacht bhfearr a bheas tu blianin innui, (3)" I said.

"That sounded lovely," Hermione said, "what does it mean?"

"It's for when ye want to thanks to someone for being of great help. 'May ye be seven times better a year from today.' Thank ye, Hermione."

"You are more than welcome," she said, blushing at my compliment.

"How did it happen," I asked.

"Do you want the long version, or the short version?" Hermione asked.

"The long version," I said, "I hungry enough to bet you'll finish your story before I finish breakfast."

"Fine, It all started four years ago when I received my letter to Hogwarts." I rolled my eyes, and she let out a laugh. "You did say the long version," she said. "That was when I first met Fluffy. This year, when we had our first class in Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid told us we needed to do a report. Each of us had to choose a magical creature to do our report on. I chose Fluffy. After all, how many three-headed dogs do you know. In addition, I could do my studying first hand instead of having to look everything up in books.

"Then Timothy showed up with Mrs. Weasley. Since I was at Hagrid's Hut observing Fluffy, Hagrid asked me to babysit Timothy."

"I'm not a baby," Timothy said, looking up from his pancakes.

"I know you're not, Timmy," she said, stroking his hair, "It's just a word we use to say I was taking care of you." Turning back to me she said, "That was how all the pieces came together. I had heard about your curse, but hadn't understood until I met you that day. I was so upset about what happened, that I missed the fact that Ron and the twins were being nasty to you, while Ginny and Neville were both acting normal." 

She paused to wipe the syrup of Timothy's face, then asked Ginny to take him back to Hagrid. I thought it was cute, how he insisted on giving Hermione a hug, before he would leave.

"Your attitude has changed towards him," I said, reminding her of what she had said that night."

"Yes and No," she said, "He is still the smallest monster in existence, but I've taught him that my word is law."

"How?"

"It was easy to do. I simply told him that he had to do what I said. Then I repeated it. After hearing it about 200 times, he began to believe it. To be honest, I had an easier time teaching Fluffy to obey me."

"You've trained Fluffy, to do tricks and stuff."

"Oh yes," Hermione said with an evil glint in her eye, "but you've got to run pretty fast when he rolls over."

After I stopped laughing, she continued, "As I said, I missed out about the Weasley's being mad at you, until Harry told me about his experience. But it was on;y when Walter told me he felt the same anger when he tried to approach you, that I thought I might know what the solution was. It's funny, I'm still not sure what the problem was.

"I realized that the curse was selective. Only students were affected by the anger aspect. Of those only three, myself Ginny and Neville, were not affected. We three were also the only ones to come in contact with you, and with Timothy. It was a long shot, but I asked Walter to come with me to Hagrid's Hut to meet Timmy, and then to visit you in the Library. He came back saying he had talked to you, and that he felt no effects from the curse.

"I talked to Dumbledore about it, and he agreed that I should try my theory. I'm happy that it worked, but I do need to apologize. When we opened the door and saw you lying on top of Ginny, it was funny. But I shudder when I think of what would have happened if I was wrong."

"Hermione," I asked, "Why would my meeting Timmy break the curse." Hermione shrugged her shoulders.

"She doesn't know, and neither do I," said Dumbledore from behind me. "That is something we will have to figure out, Owen Dugh. Congratulations on your cure, and please stop by this afternoon for tea. We never had the opportunity that first day."

As though a signal had been given, the other students at the Gryffindor table came over to give me their congratulations as well. When Professor McGonagall appeared, I couldn't resist giving her a hug. She whispered into my ear that I could keep the book until I finished it. I told her I had to get it back from Ginny, first.

Other students came over. When she walked in, and found out what happened, Fiona rushed over, giving me a hug. She started to cry. Mary came over and gave me a hug as well. When she stepped back, I found myself facing the Tinker. I hit him. He put his hand up to his bleeding lip. I knocked his hand away, and hit him again. "Go hifreann leat (4) 

," I shouted as he fell to the ground.

I heard Fiona gasp, and turned to look at her. She hit me.

"Why did you do that," She yelled. "After all the worrying Gregory went through."

"Are ye daft?" I yelled back, "He's the one who did it."

"I didn't do anything," the Tinker cried, blood streaming out of his nose. There was dead silence, except for his sobs, as he got up and ran away.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and Albus said, "Perhaps, Owen, we should talk now." With that, he led me out of the Great Hall. He did not let go of me until we were inside his office.

Dumbledore sat me down. Taking his seat behind his desk, he folded his hands and looked sharply at me. "Owen, if you are up to it, why don't you explain what happened that night."

I began by telling how our quartet, the Tinker and Mary, myself and Fiona, left the great hall and walked to Ravenclaw house. When we entered our dorm and I saw there were bunk beds, I immediately grabbed a top bunk, the Tinker grabbing the one below me. All of us in the room quickly changed into our night clothes, and crawled into our beds. Everyone else was fast asleep in minutes, but I was too excited. I just lied there thinking over the events of the day.

At one point, I leaned over the side and looked down at the Tinker. He was sleeping on his side with his green box, the one he kept his pennywhistle in, in the crook of his arm. I noticed how the box was sticking him in the ribs, and thought to take it and put it on the night table.

I climbed down the short ladder and reached over for the box. A hand grabbed me by the throat. Instead of the Tinker, I saw a diabhal, grey-green with black on black eyes. "Thief," it yelled inside my head, "How dare you?" It flung me at the wall, and into it. I could feel the stones passing through my body, grating the insides of my bones. I was outside, suspended by the arm that was slowly choking me. I was dragged all through the air, down to the ground and back up again. I was pulled back through the wall, and thrown on the floor. "If you try to tell, I will seal your throat," it screamed at me.

I opened my eyes. I was in the common room, heaving my dinner onto the floor. The front of my nightshirt was damp from when I lost control. I staggered back to my dorm room and opened the door. The Tinker lay in his bed looking perfectly normal. Without moving his body, his head turned to look at me. He opened his eyes and they were black on black. I turned and ran.

  
  


1. Buachaillin (BOOWK- uh-leen) Meaning: little boy 

2. Glashtin (GLAW-tin) Meaning: sprite 

3. Go mba seacht bhfearr a bheas tu blianin innui (Gow maw sat var uh vas too BLAN-in IN-ney) 

4. Go hifreann leat (Gow IF-ran laht) Meaning: Go to hell.

  
  



	10. September 14: Early Morning, Late After...

September 14, Late Morning, Early Afternoon

"Under normal circumstances, Owen Dugh, you would face possible expulsion from this school for such an unprovoked assault. Even under the current circumstances, you will have to face some punishment."

"I'm sorry, Albus," I said, "it was just that I saw him standing there of a sudden, I didn't think."

"I understand, but if you noticed, Gregory appears to have no knowledge of what happened to you, outside of what he, and everyone else, had been told. It may very well be that he is telling the truth. As confusing as this situation is, he has never shown any sign of being other than he is. The incident you related is the only one, and that occurred when you touched his instrument case. It appears that we are dealing with a third problem. That case of his is obviously the key."

Albus sat there, tapping his fingers. I sat there waiting for him to decide what to do. After a few minutes of silence, he dropped the axe. "It is rather simple, Owen," he said, finally, "I have to punish you for what you did, if only to keep suspicion away. Also, I have to think of your education as well. Therefore, you will have a detention on each school night, with a different teacher, to see how far behind you are in their respective classes. The exception will be Rubeus Hagrid. You can go to him after you leave here and ask him if he wants you to help him today or tomorrow, or both days. Also, Owen, if any teacher feels you have fallen too far behind, they are free to call you back for an additional night."

I groaned aloud. I would be kept busy night and day for the next two weeks. "I can make it right, Sir, I know how," I told Dumbledore. At his curious look, I continued, "It's obvious, really. I'll have to apologize to the Tinker, and it will have to be in public. The hard part will be getting him to believe me, as I won't be believing it me self. I still think it's him that did it."

"Before you leave, Owen, I have one more question. How do you feel?"

"I feel fine, Albus. Why do you ask?"

"You have been through a lot, these past two weeks," Albus said thinly. "You appear to have returned to normal more quickly than I had expected. Much more quickly."

I was excused and told to make my way to Hagrid's Hut. As I left Dumbledore's office, I saw the Tinker blocking my way. In his hand was my bodhran. Fiona and Mary were with him, as well. 

"I know you think I hurt you," the Tinker said, "but I wanted to prove to you I'm not like that." He held out the bodhran, saying, "We found it outside, below the Perch."

"I'm sorry," I stammered, as sudden doubt hit me. "Ye were the last person I remembered seeing before what happened. Comhanaich Gael, Tinker, when I saw ye of a sudden like that, I did na' think." I paused and added, "If ye'll excuse me, I have to see Hagrid."

"Are you being expelled?" The Tinker asked me.

"I am not being expelled," I said, "As a reward for me brave actions, I am being given additional responsibilities, for as long as any teacher feels like it. I've got to ask Hagrid what he wants me to do."

Somewhere in those few lines our attitudes changed. We were friends again. At least we were pretending to be friends. One part of me said I was wrong about him, but the other part told me that paranoia was a means of survival. What the Tinker thought, I will never know, but I did not expect what happened.

"Would you like company?" the Tinker asked, a smile creeping into his face.

"Are ye sure ye want to come, I mean, after what I did?"

"Yeah," he said, "Madam Pomfrey fixed my nose, and even cleaned my robes. After what I heard....It was nothing, I should have ducked." He laughed and held out his hand for me to shake. As simple as that, we were friends again. I could not believe that such a gesture was an act.

He handed me the bodhran and my stick and I began drumming, to make sure the instrument was fine. I looked over at Fiona who was muttering about boys.

" What a fynn buachail (1) Gregory is. An hour ago he's beaten for no reason, and now he's running off to play with Diabhal Dugh (2)

."

Mary's reply was to smirk and roll her eyes.

We were a sight, the Tinker and I, walking through the school as though nothing had happened. The other students simply stared at us. While I was cursed, they were afraid to say my name. Now it would be on everyone's lips. And the Tinker had, with a few words, healed the hatred that simmered in me for most of a fortnight. I shuddered as he pulled out the box, but relaxed again after he started playing his pennywhistle. I would deal with that secret at a later time.

"This is in your honor, Owen," he said, "for all the late night tasks ahead of you." He began playing Finnigan's Wake.

As we approached Hagrid, the Tinker pointed to where his brother and Hermione were playing with the three-headed dog.

"Is that Fluffy?" the Tinker asked.

"In all his glory," I answered, "and that's Hermione, she's trying to teach him to do tricks."

"That sounds great," he said, nodding his head at the thought, "and who's that boy with them?"

Alarm bells went off in my head. Ginny had told me of the events on the train and how he first told her about his brother. Arthur Weasley told him his brother was safe, and he was grateful. And now he didn't know his brother. In the back of my mind, I remembered Fiona telling him he didn't have a family. It seemed oddly important.

"That's Timothy, He's Hagrid's foster son," I answered carefully.

"Like me?" the Tinker asked.

"Like ye, that makes him your brother, in a way."

"I've never had a brother before. "What's he like?"

"Hermione calls him the world's smallest monster. That means he's six."

I was eyeing my friend carefully. He honestly did not remember Timothy. And he probably did not remember what happened to me that night. Maybe, I thought, what happened that night, when I touched the box, was just a reflex. After all, whatever did those things to me could have as easily killed me. I also thought about the report that said the original Gregory Wyatt died at the age of nine. The Tinker claims to be eleven, but he did not show it. He acted more like Timothy trying to be a big boy. Then I thought the impossible. The Tinker did not remember his brother because of what Fiona said. I thought back to my Da who told me, "Music calls to music," He liked me because of the music, it made us equal. Thus a kind word made up for my cruel blows. But It was Fiona's Da who convinced me of what to do. As he had said to Fiona, "Friends must be invited in."

"Tinker, me lad," I said, "For all tha' as happened between us, I'd like to ask ye a favor."

"Ask," he said simply.

"Will ye be me friend, and regardless of what may come between us, will ye stay me friend?"

I watched the various expressions that played on his face, amusement, embarrassment and, to my surprise, relief. "Of course," he said, "but you have to answer a question for me."

"Ask away, Tinker, me lad," I said with a grin.

"Why do you call me Tinker?"

"That's what I thought ye were when I first saw ye."

"But why don't you use my name?"

"Because ye've never told me your name."

"You know my name. You've heard people call me Gregory hundreds of times already."

"Aye, lad, I have. But, YOU, me fynn Tinker, have never told me your name."

The Tinker looked at me, not knowing whether to smile or frown at my obstinate answer. He shrugged his shoulders, brandishing a thoughtful smile, and we began walking.

He never told me his name.  
  


We walked over, and I introduced Hermione to the Tinker. We spent some time explaining what happened. She thought it wonderful how quickly we resolved our differences.

Then I noticed Timothy was not around. Hermione saw me looking around, and laughed.

"We're playing fetch again. Here, both of you watch Fluffy." She then called to Fluffy the way our neighbor back home talked to her lap dog, except louder.

"Fluffy, Where's Timmy?" The dog's ears (all six of them) stood up, and he began sniffing around, then started barking. Meanwhile Hermione is still asking the dog "Where's Timmy, Wheeeerrree's Timmy?"

By now Fluffy is excited and jumping up and down, making the ground shake slightly. The Tinker is staring, his face pale, watching the one dog that could intimidate an elephant. I wanted to see his face for what was about to happen, but I was too curious to do more than give him an occasional glance.

"Fetch Timmy, Fluffy, Fetch Timmy," Hermione shouted. The dog took off as though he was chasing a rabbit. Looking ahead of him, I could see Timothy almost to the top of a low hill, perhaps a half kilometer away. It was exactly as Hagrid had described it. Fluffy scooped the boy up off his feet and flung him into the air, catching him in one mouth, than another, as he ran back to the hut. When he returned, Fluffy placed Timothy down, feet first, and backed off. The drool-covered boy was laughing as hard as he could, asking if he could do it again. I was speechless. I glanced at the Tinker, who stood slack-jawed.

Hagrid showed himself at that point, and told Timothy that it was time for his bath and nap. Hermione excused herself and led the whining boy inside. I explained to Hagrid why I was there, the Tinker confirming my story about what I did.

"Well, I can use yer help for a little bit," Hagrid said, with a smile that made me cringe. "Fluffy still needs some exercise, so loosen yer feet up and go out for a run." Then he nodded to let me know he was serious.

"Excuse me, Sir," I croaked, "could I use the facilities, first."

When I finished my business, Hagrid took me over to Fluffy to let the dog sniff me, "That way he'll have yer scent." Then he told me to run hard, so Fluffy will be interested, "Owen, I'll send Fluffy to fetch you back when yer at the spot where he caught Timmy. Now, RUN!"

I ran as fast as I could, not knowing what else to do. I could see other students watching me as I headed toward the hill. As I reached the crest, I heard the Fluffy begin to bark. The barking became louder, and I ran even faster than I thought possible.

Suddenly, everything around me became black and wet. I felt my feet leave the ground, and then I was in the open air screaming. I saw the dog below me as I fell back downward, its central mouth wide open. At the last second, another head grabbed me, spun me around, and threw me back in the air. Down again, I fell, to be grabbed, spun and flung back into the air.

It was the third time this happened that I noticed that my movement was very fluid, almost like an aerial dance. It was not the jerk and twist I had expected. The next time I was flung upwards I let out a loud whoop. I couldn't do anything about Fluffy's breath or his drool, but it was almost worth it. All too quickly, I was caught one last time, and placed on my feet, dizzy and wet, laughing at the great ride. Hagrid was laughing along with me while the Tinker stared at us like we were both mad.

Hermione came out of the hut, saying "Timmy barely made it to the bed. Hagrid, you should have some peace for about two hours." Looking at me she said, "Enjoy the game?"

"It was great fun, Hermione," I said, breathlessly, "now that it's over."

Hagrid turned to Gregory. "Its yer turn, Gregory, If yer wants, that is."

The Tinker agreed after some coaxing, and as I had, began emptying his pockets. When he pulled out the box, he faltered. I had the feeling that he was torn about what to do. He wanted to see what it was like to be fetched. On the other hand, he didn't want to let go of the box.

Hermione held out her hand to take the box, saying, "I'll hold it for you, Gregory."

"No, " the Tinker and I cried out together. I looked at the Tinker and saw something cross his face. It made me dare to take a chance.

"If ye let me," I told the Tinker slowly, "I will hold the box for ye until you return. I promise I will return it to ye." I held both hands together, palms up, and waited. Hagrid watched with understanding, but Hermione's look was a questioning one. She knew something was happening, and my guess was that she would figure it out. I decided to help everyone out by saying, "I know about the curse."

Again, something passed over the Tinker's face. He smiled, and carefully placed the box in my hands. I could fell something, like the box was alive, but not quite aware. It seemed to me, to put it in human terms, that the box was sleeping. The Tinker's face, on the other hand, was fully awake. Freed from the dilemma of the box, he was ready to give it a try. Fluffy sniffed at him the same way I had been sniffed. Then the Tinker began running with all his might. In no time at all he was chased and caught and flung around, to end up on his feet, laughing as loudly as I had. "That was great," he shouted, adding, "you smell terrible."

"That's not me ye smell," I told him. "Then I sniffed my arm, and added, "but ye're right about smelling terrible."

I carefully gave him back the box, which he seemed almost reluctant to take. That done, he quickly returned to his happier mood. Then Hagrid excused us for the day, telling me he had some real work for the next day.

The Tinker and I walked back to the school, not saying anything. Occassionally, we would look at each other and laugh. Despite all that happened, I felt on top of the world. I also discovered one important thing. The Tinker was not a monster, he was a boy just trying to fit in, even if he was no ordinary boy.  
  


1. Fynn buachail (Fine BOOWK-ul) Meaning: Fine Boy

2. Diabhal Dugh (DEH-vul due) Meaning: Black Devil (as opposed to Owen Dugh)  
  



	11. September 14: Evening

September 14, Evening

It was after the Tinker and I parted, that events began to catch up with me. I was returning to Gryffindor when I ran into Harry Potter.

"You've been playing with Fluffy," he said with a wide grin, "I can smell dog from the other end of the hall."

"It was fun, too," I said, "But I need to get cleaned and change. Me Mam's coming after dinner."

"Follow me," he said and led me through the halls. He said something in front of a door, and it opened. "The prefects bathroom," he said. "Clean up in here, and I'll get you a change of clothes. It's better than parading through the common room and offending everyone."

"Thank ye," I replied. "And while ye're checking out my closet, ye might want to give me a few tips on decorating. I've been told ye are the one to ask."

Harry stopped in his tracks and stared at me.

"If I've said something wrong," I told him, "I apologize. I was just trying to make a joke."

"No," he said, thoughtfully. "It's only, no one's every made a joke about it before. It took me by surprise." Then he smiled, adding, "It's funny, I spent all those years in that closet, and now, I feel better. I can laugh about it." As he turned to leave, he called back, "You don't mind if I steal your joke, do you?" He left, and I was alone in what was, for me, a lavish bathroom.

I filled the tub, and as I undressed, threw my clothes in for a good washing as well. In short order, my washed clothes were draped over anything to dry. I had leaned back in the tub, enjoying the warm water, when I started to cry. I didn't know why, nor could I stop. Madam Pomfrey told me later that it was the result of shock. I had been in great pain, and was suddenly released. For a while, it was like I was walking on a cloud, and I could do anything. But now that I was relaxing, my troubles were coming back with a vengeance.

Harry found me sitting on the edge of the tub, still crying. I don't know what he thought, but he spoke in a light mood, saying, "If I had known you would take it so badly, I wouldn't have stolen your joke." He put his hands under my arms and lifted me up. He then wrapped a large bath towel around me.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"I made friends with the Diabhal," I sobbed.

"The Devil?" he asked with surprise. "I didn't even know you've met Snape."

I didn't get the joke. It didn't matter though, as long as he kept talking. It helped me focus on my situation, and what problems I had.

"I ran into Ron, by the way. He asked what I was doing, so I told him I was going to check out your closet and give you some ideas on how to decorate. His jaw dropped when I said that. 'Harry, how can you joke about something like that,' he told me. I answered by saying, 'if I should be serious, then seriously tell me if you think the closet would look better underneath some stairs.'"

"Thank ye, Harry" I said. Mam was right. Sometimes a good cry is the best thing for you. I felt released the last of the stress. That Harry came back and immediately tried to help, was the icing on the cake. "I should get dressed," I said.

"I'll wait for you outside," he said. "You'll need help finding your new room." He went out and closed the door.

I dressed, and put my old clothes in a sack he had brought. Somehow the clothes were dry (I suspect some magic spell from Harry) but they still smelled like Fluffy. I left the prefects bathroom and followed Harry to the Gryffindor common room. He told me my thing s had been removed from the closet and but in the dorm with the other first-years. What he, or anyone else, did not say was that I was now in Gryffindor. To my knowledge, I was never formally made a student in that house. I only know that one day, Fiona asked Dumbledore why I hadn't returned to Ravenclaw. She never told me his response, but on occasion she would refer to me as, "My cousin, the Gryffindor," and she always said it with a sense of pride.

Harry showed me to my dorm, and my new bed, and what to do with my laundry. I also met several new friends all of whom I promptly forgot the names of. Then it was off to dinner, and the meeting. I would have headed out immediately, except for the argument I ran into in the common room. The Weasleys were there in force, as were Harry and Neville. I had told Harry the how and why of breaking the curse, and he had apparently made some reference about Ginny.

"Why do you keep insisting there's nothing going on," Ron yelled at Neville. The twins were eyeing Neville with suspicion.

"Because nothing is going on," Neville insisted, "Ginny doesn't even like me."

"Then why is she always with you all the time?" Ron demanded.

"Good question, Ron," said one of the twins.

"Because the lass is afraid," I shouted, remembering I owed a debt to Ginny.

"Owen, don't," Ginny said, paling.

"Don't what?," Ron asked, looking at Ginny then at me.

"She doesn't want me to tell, " I said.

"Owen," Ginny pleaded, but I would have none of it. I was forced to listen to her problems. now, everyone would.

"Neville," I said, "We all know ye like Ginny. I've heard a dozen times about how ye reacted when she agreed to go to the Yule Ball with ye. Well, guess what? She's afraid ye don't like her." That got a reaction from everyone. Ron glared at Neville, who stared at Ginny, who stared at the floor. Harry and the twins wore matching grins, enjoying what the new player in the game was doing.

"It's just that charm," said Neville, "The one that makes everyone like me."

"Ain't no charm," I said, "It would have come from the same source that cursed me. And it would have been broken when ye met Timmy. They like ye because of what they see in ye. Ye herded us first-years into the boats like ye were a master..."

"I was scared. I was just trying to do what I had to."

"...and Ye did a great job of it. Every first-year in every house talked about ye. Then others started talking to ye to see what ye were made of. They never did that before, but they left impressed by the way ye handled ye self. And by the way ye dealt with me, when no one else would. Ye may ha' been scared but ye' came through. Tha's wha' people remember." I could feel my brogue thickening as I got into my speech, but now I had to get back to the point.

"T'were fine wi' Ginny when ye were nobody, but now she's afraid, ye won't want her, tha' she ain't good enou' for ye." I had to stop there. My next words would be in Gaelic and that would make me impossible to understand, instead of merely difficult.

"What do you mean my sister's not good enough for you," Ron yelled at Neville. I couldn't help thinking that he enjoyed yelling.

"I didn't say that," Neville yelled back.

"You're right, Ron," Ginny said, overcoming her embarrassment, "Neville and I are deeply in love and we've been doing everything you've accused us of, and doing it everywhere we could. And I'll prove it." With that, she surprised every one of us by grabbing Neville and kissing him passionately. Ron blushed, Harry and the twins roared with laughter, and I uttered, "Comhanaich Gael," under my breath. Neville was taken back at first, but realized that Ginny was doing this to annoy Ron. He joined in the mock passion and Ron grew even more red. They stopped kissing and looked at each other. I've seen that look before. Mam and Da have it. Aunt Jessica and Uncle Darren have it. Arthur and Molly have it. Hagrid and 'anything dangerous that will attack you without notice' have it. That was why I wasn't surprised when they kissed again. I left before the fireworks began.

"Did they kiss again," Walter asked, as I came through the portrait, "I walked in to catch the end of your speech, and decided to beat an early retreat." I laughed and told him yes, as we walked to the Great Hall together.

"I know the answer to your problem," Walter said, "you know, the one nobody knows about."

"Then how do ye know what the problem is?" I asked.

"I don't," said Walter, "I only know what the answer is." He looked at my confusion, and added, "Try this as an example. I know the mathematical answer is'4'. What is the question?"

"What is '2 + 2'?" I replied.

"But couldn't the question be What is '3 + 1' or '7 - 3'? We do know the question is not 'how many fingers am I holding up' because we said it was mathematics. In the same way, I can know a solution to your problem, without knowing the entire problem. All I really know is that you hated Gregory Wyatt this morning, you were best friends with him this afternoon, and you told Harry that you had made friends with the devil."

"How did ye know what I had said to Harry," I asked suspiciously.

"By eavesdropping," he said calmly, "I walked with him on my way to the library, and stopped to listen when he said something about stealing your joke. I stuck my head in the door just as you spoke. Courtesy insisted I leave at that point. Courtesy also insists that I never repeat what I heard or saw."

"Thank ye," I said.

"Do you read much," Walter asked, "I read all the time, anything I can get my hands on."

"I've read a bit," I told him.

"Good," he said, "If you've read Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, you have your answer. Now, I'm afraid you have to go."

"Why?" I asked, and he pointed down the hall. Mam was standing there, and as I looked I saw that Da had come as well. I ran down that hall as fast as I could, jumping into their arms as if I was no older than Timmy. As I clung to both my parents all I could think of to say was, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Ye should be, ye fat ass," I heard someone say. Letting go of my parents, I looked around for the strange voice.

"Aw, Mam, ye ruined it," I cried. "Ye brought Fergus."

"See, Mam," said Fergus, "Tis nothing wrong wi' him. He was making it all up."

"Let me show ye my friends," I said, grabbing Fergus, and making him follow me into the Great Hall. The first person I walked up to was Hermione. I showed her my brother, and warned her, "This is Fergus. This is what Timmy will be like in three years."

"Do you mean his hair is going to turn black?"

"His hair isn't going to turn black, Hermione, he's going to be as bad as ever, only bigger."

"Don' listen to him, miss," said Fergus, "He hasn' been well lately."

Hermione laughed at that. "Hello, Fergus. Tell Owen to bring you down to Hagrid's Hut tomorrow, if you're still here. You can meet Timmy."

"Is he your brother?" Fergus asked.

"No, only a friend. He's helping train Hagrid's dog."

"I should warn ye, Fergus," I said, "He's a big one."

"Comhanaich Gael, Owen, it sounds like fun," he said sarcastically.

We sat down to eat, talking about almost everything, except me. I was happy to see my family, except Dierdre who was with Aunt Jessica. I was surprised as well, especially with Fergus wanting to come. For all our fighting, Fergus was always trying to imitate me, for better or worse. He even showed up with his flute case on a strap.

As we were finishing, Fiona came by with Mary and the Tinker, and awkward became the word of the day. Fiona made introductions, as the Tinker and Mam eyed each other.

"I always use my maiden name when I am working, Gregory," Mam said. "As with your case, it helps me from becoming too personally involved."

"Aunt Claire," Fiona said, "forgive me but I don't understand."

Gregory answered, "Your aunt is the lady from social welfare. She's the one who decided I could stay."

"The name's Sean O'Donnell," said Da, to the Tinker, doing his best to change the subject. "Ye are a friend of Owen then?"

"Yes, sir," the Tinker said with a smile. "I'm his best friend, I think."

He added the last two words when he saw my face. I hadn't told my parents about this afternoon, yet, and I faltered when he spoke. But there was also another reason. I had named someone else to the position of best friend, and Fergus knew it.

"Is that true, Owen" Fergus said, putting me on the spot.

"It is not," I said, then turning to the Tinker added, "I'm sorry, Tinker me lad, but this is me best friend. Meet me brother, Fergus."

When I said that, Fergus beamed his best smile. I had said just the right thing, as far as he was concerned. The Tinker, however, seemed to become sad. I had the feeling that he felt left out. Then I noticed it, he was surrounded by my family, and for all that he was, or might be, he was alone. I did not know it at the time, but I was about to make the winning move in a game I didn't know I was playing. I put my arm around my brother's shoulders, and pointed him at the Tinker. "This is your replacement, if you keep bothering me."

"Your lucky to have a family," the Tinker said, as a tear ran down his cheek.

It was Da who reacted to this first. Being closest to him, Da reached out and wiped the tear away. "None of that, lad. Claire told me about ye, and for the rest of the night ye're part of our family."

That was it. For all that the Tinker might be, he was a part of our family group. I understood later what had happened, but at the time, all I could see was that he was happy and sad at the same time. The sadness disappeared briefly when Da suggested a tune and Mam cast a spell to call Da's harp and Fiona's violin, and we began playing. While we were playing, he was as happy as the rest of us, but as soon as we finished, the sadness returned.

"Ye're no taller than me," Fergus told the Tinker, as we started to leave. "That means I can give ye advice. Mam gave ye this Hagrid as your Da. Well, ye're the fool if ye don't talk wi' him."

The Tinker stared at my brother as though he was the wisest man in the world. I am tempted to say the Tinker was delusional at this point, but all the Tinker said was, "Thanks."

Then he walked over to the teacher's table and sat down next to the giant.

As we walked out of the hall, we passed the Weasley brothers. On of the twins was saying, "Ron, they only did that to tease you."

"Maybe," said Ron, "but why did they have to kiss a second time?"  
  



	12. September 15: Morning

September 15: Morning

It was early when I woke up to a familiar voice, Fergus. Someone had let him into the room to do the honors of getting me out of bed. After the unexpected show my family gave the previous night, I was briefly the most popular student in Gryffindor. Fergus was now giving me the opposite reputation, as he woke everyone else up as well. With plenty of grumbling, I dressed and led him back to the Great Hall, were we found Fiona waiting.

"Gregory didn't come back last night, cousins. Do either of you know what might have happened?"

"He went to talk with Hagrid," I told Fiona. "He might have spent the night at his hut." When Fiona gave me a blank look, I felt I had to explain. "Last night at dinner, ye saw the way he acted, like we were being nice to him. Mary has family, and she was fine, but the Tinker doesn't. He didn't know how to behave."

"Owen, she' gettin' teary- eyed," Fergus warned.

"I'm sorry, cousin, I did na' think," Fiona said, as she wiped her eyes.

"Ye did it, Owen," Fergus shouted, "ye made her slip her brogue. And don' deny ye DID NA', Fiona."

Fiona stormed off at those words, muttering a few choice Gaelic phrases under her breath. I did not hear any of them clearly, but when she walked past Seamus Finnigan, he turned weasley red. Fiona loves being proper even in her speech, but when she gets upset, she forgets herself. Did I ever mention she can be pompous at the drop of a hat?

I set down to breakfast, with Fergus, and looked around for my parents. Mam was talking with Albus, probably about what I had told her yesterday night.

"Where's Da?" I asked Fergus.

"He went off wi' the music teacher," he said, as if that explained everything.

I noticed Neville and Ginny enter. They both looked as though they had a late night. They also looked like they had resolved their differences. They also looked to make sure none of Ginny's brothers were around. I waved to them. They waved back but it was clear that they wanted some time alone.

Walter sat down next to me, and began eating. "That friend of yours, Peeves, is a godsend," he said.

I had to stare. Walter was as bad as Dumbledore when it came to knowing things. "How did you know about that?" I asked.

"Didn't really," Walter said, "I knew Peeves was acting strangely, for Peeves that is, so I made my best guess. Thank you for confirming it."

I rolled my eyes and muttered a few curses of my own. I should have known better than to ask. "How is he a godsend, then?"

"You haven't noticed?" Walter asked in return, "It's the Slytherins. Almost every time one of them tries to harass another student, the poltergeist appears, and won't stop yelling until a teacher comes, or the student falls down some stairs, things like that. Just this morning, I saw Draco Malfoy, he's one of the worst, pass by Ron Weasley and he only said, 'Good Morning.' To be fair, Ron started to say something anyway, and Peeves went at him. When I left, he and Ron were still trying to stare each other down."

"When was this?" I asked quickly.

"Oh, just before I came here," Walter said, "Is that important?"

"Ron's coming," I shouted out.

I looked over to where Neville and Ginny were sitting. Ginny was watching the door, and pushing Neville's plate across the table, while Neville had already jumped under the table. He came out on the other side, and sat down across from Ginny just as Ron entered. Walter looked at me, clearly impressed.

With the crisis resolved, I asked Walter, "Why is Peeves doing this things?"

"I think," said Walter with a grin, "It has to do with his natural desire to annoy people. By playing school monitor, he annoys every student by harassing them, and every teacher because they haven't any real reason to complain. The only one who is happy about it is Argus Filch. But he thinks the only thing wrong with the school is that they let the students in here in the first place."

"I've created a monster," I said, with a grin of my own.

"Look," said Fergus, pointing to the entrance.

I looked over to see the Tinker walk in, Hagrid's hand on his shoulder, with Timmy tagging along. He looked happier than I had ever seen him. They stopped when they got to Neville. Ron was busy questioning his friend about what was going on, when Hagrid simply, and loudly, told Ron to shut up. After the brief applause, Hagrid told Neville to meet him after breakfast. Then they walked over to us.

"Mornin' boys," Hagrid said. "Owen, I'll need yer to meet with me after breakfast. Until then, do yer mind watching these two for me."

"Where's 'Mione?" asked Timmy.

"She'll be here soon," said Walter, "she had some big news last night."

"She did, at that," agreed Hagrid, as he gave us a parting smile.

"What news?" I asked.

The Tinker started to answer, but Walter interrupted, saying, "Let Hermione tell them."

Instead, I asked Walter about what I had missed during my illness. He filled me in on the details, but there was nothing major. Between them, Fergus and the Tinker were keeping Timmy entertained, but the buachaillin would not eat until 'she' came.

When Hermione did show up, Timmy let out a loud yell that was heard throughout the hall. He ran to meet her, and Hermione got down on one knee to catch him. After hugging him and wishing him good morning, she led Timmy back to his seat, and began putting breakfast on a plate for him. Then she sat down next to him, to get her own food.

"What's the news?" I asked. "Is it something ye can tell?"

Hermione gave me a tired smile and said, "I'm surprised your mother hasn't told you already. After all, it was her idea, and she arranged it."

"Oh, that," said Fergus.

"Am I the only one who doesn't know?" I asked.

"I don't know either," said Timmy, holding half a banger in his hand, chewing the other half.

"Yes, you do, honey," Hermione said. "Owen, your mother has asked my parents if they would agree to a trial fosterage with Timmy. He's become close to me, and that was felt to be a good sign. I received an owl from my parents last night. Based upon the letters and pictures I've sent them, they decided to give it a try. There are only a few issues at this end to resolve, although your mom did not say what they were."

"What about the Tinker," I asked. I had forgotten that he did not remember being Timmy's brother, and the question was out before I could recall it.

"We aren't really brothers," the Tinker said. "I'll be staying here with Hagrid."

"What issues?" Timmy asked.

"Nothing important," said the Tinker, "It should be resolved today."

My curiosity was up. This Tinker was different from the one I knew last night. Last night, he didn't know half the things he did when he got here. Now, he knew everything, and more.

Mam and Hagrid came by to get me and to my surprise, to get the Tinker. Neville and Ginny took the opportunity to join us, leaving an irritated Ron behind.

"Yer told her," Hagrid said accusingly.

"She told me," Neville answered. "The only thing she hadn't figured out, is how Timmy fit into the picture, but since we hadn't figured that out either, I told her she was right. One more thing," he said, looking at Ginny, "she had already linked the instrument case to Timmy despite her other doubts."

"How?" demanded Mam.

"Mrs. O'Donnell, I am the only girl in my family," Ginny explained, "with six older brothers. To understand them, you had to watch how they acted, because they were always trying to pull something. I did the same thing with Gregory and his brother. I noticed that when Timmy was active, Gregory would regularly touch the case. On the other hand, when it was Timmy's nap time, Gregory was always more relaxed. I knew the what of the thing, even though I didn't know the how or the why."

"Mam," I asked, "What's going on."

"Don't worry, Owen, things are fine. Because of you and Fergus, Gregory decided to talk to Hagrid, and he told him everything."

"He did, at that," Hagrid said, throwing a big grin at the Tinker. "We had a big talk last night, but he'll tell all about it when we get together."

My ego was taking a beating. Last night, I had the biggest news to tell. This morning, I am the only one who doesn't know what is going on. I thought things might become more clear when we arrived at the meeting room, and I was right to a small degree. Then I remembered something.

"Mam, what about Fergus? We left him alone in the Hall."

"Don't worry," she told me, "Fiona will watch him."

I didn't dare tell Mam she was wrong. Fergus had gotten Fiona to walk off. I shrugged my shoulders. After all, how much trouble could he get into by himself. And if he did, that was Mam's problem.

I entered the meeting room, which was the faculty lounge. Everyone from the first meeting was there with the addition of Mam, the Tinker and Ginny Weasley.

"You see, Arthur," Molly Weasley said loudly, "They've sorted themselves out in hardly any time at all." She smiled widely as her daughter blushed. Arthur made it a point to admire the ceiling.

As Mam led me to a couch, I walked past the Sorting Hat. "You made it into Gryffindor after all," it said as I passed by. "You've proven yourself brave enough to deserve it."

Stopping, I asked it, "Is there any chance ye'll tell me what ye mean by that." When I didn't get any answer, I was led to the couch.

Mr. Olivander was telling Albus about the wand, "Marvelous concept, It was a human hair, bathed in Unicorn blood, but he used his magic to put the hair inside the Unicorn, and then took it out again without even hurting the beast." He looked over and saw that I was listening. "That is how he avoided the Unicorn's curse," he added.

"Whose hair is it?" I asked.

"It was Gregory's hair," he said, then added sadly, "the one that died."

Albus called the meeting to order. "With good fortune, this should be our last meeting. Gregory, are you feeling up to this?"

"Yes, Sir," he said with an assured tone, "But I would like to start by giving an apology to Owen. I understand, now, what had happened that night. You gave your mother, and she gave Hagrid, the solution to the problem, when you mentioned the probability of a split personality. I believe you referred to it as Jekyll and Hyde. I had no experience in this, and was not even aware of what I was doing, until Rubeus Hagrid pointed it out to me, last night. I wish there was some way to change the past, but that is even beyond me. If you like, I can remove those memories, and even replace them with something else?"

This was not what I had expected. The Tinker was talking to me as though he were a college professor. I caught myself when I realized that he had asked me a question. "I'd like to keep my memories, thank ye. For good or bad, they make me what I am."

"Very well," he said, "Let us proceed with the reason we are here. In payment for all of the trouble I've caused, and for services to be rendered, I will explain myself. Are there any questions before I begin?"

I had made a pledge with him, when I wasn't thinking my best. We had agreed to be friends, regardless of what happened. My question, which I did not ask, was if I would regret it.


	13. September 15: Late Morning

September 15: Late Morning

"Perhaps," Albus said, "It would be best to start at the beginning."

"I'm sorry, Professor," the Tinker replied. "I cannot start at the beginning, because I do not know how I began. It is only recently that I have even begun to understand the concept of time."

Albus smiled in amusement, asking, "Then perhaps you could tell us what type of being you are?"

Gregory smiled back in amusement of his own. "Would you be angry, Professor, if I told you that I am not sure I understand the question? If you mean what am I made of, I am not made of anything. I am trying to be honest but the idea is still strange to me. Even though I have taken a physical form, the physical word still seems unreal to me. Perhaps a better answer would be to ask you to describe a thought." Gregory looked down at the floor, saying, "I'm not being very helpful, am I?"

"It isn't your fault, Gregory. I have very little practice asking these types of questions. We need to find a common thread, something we can both relate to. Let me try one more question before I yield the floor. Are you the only one of your kind."

"As far as I know, I am, Professor."

"No, he isn't," said Mam. "I wasn't sure, until Gregory said that the physical world seemed unreal, but the Department of Mysteries has records of similar, uhm, beings."

I looked up in total surprise. I know every kid thinks their parents know everything, but they don't always prove it. "Mam, Ye're amazing."

"Thank You, Owen Dugh. It is nice to know I'm appreciated."

"Excuse me, Mrs. O'Donnell," Gregory said, with a touch of excitement, "what do you know about me, and my brothers?"

Mam went into her lecture voice, "We do know that you have no form of existence in the physical world, unless you choose to. You are passive, as a rule, and you will not do anything on your own. Because you are so different from us, problems frequently arise when we try to interact. The results are frequently unexpected, and sometimes very dangerous.

The passive tendency that your kind shows is apparent when you take on a physical form. In this, you are consistent in forming yourselves as inanimate objects. With you, it was a wand case."

"Yes, that's right," Gregory said, "I was aware that you, humans, where manipulating the essence that is life by waving wands and staves. That was how I came by the idea."

"What a wonderful way to describe magic," intoned Mr. Olivander.

Mam continued after a pause, "There are others in our recorded history. The most famous one appeared as an oil lamp. The legends that grew up around that one gave you the name we use today. You are commonly know as Djinn. 

"We have record of one that was a book, which could never be opened to the same page twice. Another one appeared as a rock, which when moved would always return to its original spot. There is one in our possession which is a perfect black orb which will always float five feet off the ground when it is not being held. When you touch it, it turns a particular shade of blue, and it is never the same shade for any two people."

"What an interesting idea," Gregory said, "to catalogue the beings you come into contact with."

"Is that what the orb is doing," Mam asked, surprised at the thought.

"Of course," Gregory said, laughing, "Isn't it obvious? I haven't done anything like that myself, but I have recorded first impressions."

Albus asked, "What do you mean, that you have recorded first impressions?"

"I can easily show you, Professor. This is Harry Potter.

I am always happy on September 1. I get to leave the Dursleys, and return to Hogwarts, to be with all of my friends. The Dursleys dropped me off in the usual manner, stopping long enough at Kings Cross Station for me to remove my trunk and Hedwig's cage, then taking off. I don't mind that they do that, I would be willing to walk from Privet Drive if I had to.

As I walked to Platform nine 3/4, I passed a station guard with a funny look on his face. I guessed that he came too close to finding out about the magical platform and someone placed a forgetfulness spell on him.

I spotted the Weasley family gathered around a small boy, in clean but well-worn clothes. I know what they are talking about. I had the same conversation four years ago when I first tried to find the Hogwarts Express. The boy is a new student, and muggle born, or I wouldn't have heard Mrs. Weasley explaining how to walk through the barrier.

"Haven't you had this conversation before, Mrs. Weasley," I asked as I walked up.

All the Weasleys greeted me warmly, and after saying hello to everyone, I introduce myself to the boy. "Gregory Edward Wyatt," he said with as much authority as he could muster, and shook my hand. I could tell that Gregory comes from a very poor family, but he doesn't let that diminish his spirits. I took a liking to him immediately. It was like he was a younger brother I never knew I had. The Weasleys then introduced themselves, with Ginny warning the boy about Fred and George. The twins took this in good form, though. Fred even gave Gregory a playful wink.

After we walked through the barrier, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley began to give Gregory the standard questions they asked their children, and anyone else who crossed their paths, me, for example. At first it was awkward when he had to admit that all he had were the clothes he was wearing, but then Ron had the stupidity to comment on it. The way Gregory reacted was funny, calling Ron, "Mr. Fancy Pants." Ron started to get mad, but I gave him a light slap on the back and reminded him that he deserved the retort. If I know Ron, he was beaming inside. After all, it was the first time anybody had ever accused him of being rich.

Gregory showed us that he did have a robe, stuffed inside his jacket, and that he had his wand. From the way Fred and George reacted, it must have been of high quality. I suspected Dumbledore had a hand in that. The boy's parents couldn't afford to buy such a good wand. Dumbledore probably made arrangements so that they didn't even know that they were supposed to pay for it. It's the type of thing he would do. I'd be willing to wager that when Gregory got to Hogwarts, there would be a trunk waiting for him, with everything he would need.

Gregory handled the questioning with the skill every child learns from dealing with parents. He even pulled out a five-pound note to show that he could buy some things. It was clear that he didn't know anything about wizardly currency, but I felt bad when Mrs. Weasley suggested talking to his parents. I wasn't the only one. Fred even asked his mother not to embarrass the boy. I couldn't help but reassure Mrs. Weasley that we would take care of him. At that, I put a reassuring hand on Gregory's shoulder, letting him know there was nothing to worry about. When Mr. Weasley gave his assurances as well, Mrs, Weasley then turned on the rest of us. It was another twenty minutes before they would let us go.

As we gathered our belongings, Gregory asked to help. I couldn't resist his good nature, and I offered to let him carry Hedwig's cage. From the look on his face I know I did the right thing. If his smile were any bigger, it would have gone completely around his head. Nor was I the only one to be impressed by his positive attitude. As I boarded the train, I glanced back and saw Fred with his arm on him. Fred was telling him he was going to do great when he got to the school. I found myself hoping he would be sorted into Gryffindor. He was exactly the kind of student we needed at Hogwarts.

In an instant, the first meeting between Harry and Gregory was in my mind. I could tell that everyone else had received those images as well. Before anyone could say anything, Gregory added, "and this is how Fred Weasley saw me

George is the first to notice him. He nudges me and I look over. The boy is a ragamuffin. I've seen people dressed like him before, mostly old guys, lost in the bottle. Last year one even asked us for money. Dad pulled out his wand and cast a sleep spell on him, and he just curled up in a corner. The thing was, I had never seen one this young. He looks to be nine or 10, with hair as long as Ginny's. He's clean enough, but his clothes are worn. One knee shows through a tear in his pants, his shirt is missing several buttons, and his jacket has no buttons at all.

There's a station guard coming up behind him. He glances back at the guard, then at us with a pleading look. He reminds me so much of Harry, I feel I have to do something. "Mom, I think that boy is trying to get to the platform." Mom looks up and then turns to Dad. "What do you think, Arthur?" "Let's find out," Dad says, and pulls out his wand. The guard stops where he is, smiles at us, and goes away.

When the boy comes over to thank us for our help, Mom asks him if he is going to school. He smiles and says he is but he doesn't know where to catch the train. When Mom tells him, he reacts the same way that Harry had. I am tempted to say something, but Harry beats me to it. Coming up behind the ragamuffin, he asks Mom, "Mrs. Weasley, haven't you had this conversation before?"

After a round of greetings, introductions are made. "Gregory Edward Wyatt," the boy says, as though he were the local lord, "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Weasley." "What a polite boy," Mom says, and, sure enough, the ragamuffin blushes right on cue. I nudge George, and blush slightly. He also blushes, to show me he is on top of it, too.

Mom makes the introductions and I go to shake hands, but Ginny warns him about me first. I swear she is worse than I was at her age, but she is the apple of Mom's eye and can do no wrong. Instead, I wink at the kid, to let him know I am onto his game. He is smooth, though, acting like nothing has happened. George just looks at me, and grins.

Mom and Dad send us across the barrier to Platform 9 3/4, making it a point that little Greggypoo crosses over with them. Then the kid does the Harry thing again, just standing there with his mouth open. "You're catching flies," Ginny says, pushing his mouth closed. He blushes, this time for real.

Now that we are on the platform, Mom and Dad begin to ask him questions. Dad asks him where his trunk is. He can't lie, so he has to say he doesn't have one. He uses a nice, humble sounding voice, too. I 'm starting to like this kid. "But where are your clothes?" Mom asks. "I'm wearing them," he says in just the right tone to make the folks feel sorry for him. Then Ron opens his mouth, "You're going to Hogwarts dressed like that?" I think the kid is going to lose it. "I'm sorry, I didn't have a chance to buy a new suit, Mr. Fancy Pants," he yells with a sneer. Ron has touched a nerve, and the kid has let himself show through. Harry helps by putting his hand on his friend's shoulder, saying, "You deserved that, Ron." I think maybe Harry knows, but George's look tells me it's just Harry being himself.

Still, he now had Mom feeling Motherly, and that is one short stop from blowing your cover. George looks at me to ask what this kid's game is. I pull on my ear. The kid is clearly playing by his.

Of course, Mom asks about his robes, and the kid shows her the bulge in his jacket. Then Dad gets suspicious and asks about his wand. At this point, I figure the kid is a goner. No wand, no train ride, and it's obvious, now that he has seen it, little Greg wants to get on that train. Then the kid does what everyone expects him to do, everyone except me and George, that is, since we know better. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a wand. I don't claim to be an expert, but it looks like it's made of Yew, about 11 inches long, with a core, most probably, of unicorn hair. I said I don't 'claim' to be an expert. The kid knows he's won the round and adds in a flourish, "It's the first thing I got."

Now, we go into Round Three. The kid has picked up that he played the pity card too much, so he shifts tactics. I expect him to go for embarrassment. That's what I would do, and George agrees. Mom and Dad ask about books and supplies. The kid says his folks will send him his stuff as soon as they can. Then, for a nice touch, he does a straight face and says, "Mom told me just to read off the other kid's books until then. And they gave me money in case I need to buy anything." He's won the game, but then he blows it by pulling out a fiver in muggle cash. He's dead in the water and doesn't know it. He doesn't know about wizardly currency.

And Mom drops the bomb. "Maybe we should talk to your parents," she says. The kid knows he goofed big time, but can't figure out why. But I know there's a chance to keep the game alive, Dad hasn't nodded yet. Once he does, it means he agrees with Mom. So I jump into action, "C'mon, Mom, You're embarrassing the kid." Dad stops and starts to rethink. Then Harry comes through again. "Don't worry, Mrs. Weasley," he tells Mom, "we'll take care of him." With that, he puts a brotherly hand on the kid's shoulder. It is so hard to believe that Harry hasn't got a clue about what is really going on.

Dad tells Mom that we will be fine, and tells us to owl him if there are any problems. That a joke, really, 'cause Dad knows that if there are any problems, owling him will be the last thing we'll do. The kid realizes he's won and thanks Mom for her concern. Smart move. Always back away from a crouching tiger, never run.

Mom's upset that she can't mother the kid to death, and takes it out on everyone else, including Harry. Everyone is happy, though. The kid even offers to help carry some stuff and Harry, good old Harry, lets him carry Hedwig's cage. Gregory is beaming. Ginny is watching him like a new found brother. We know she will back us up if we ask. Even Ron is happy. No one has ever insulted him for having money. As for me and George, we were going to smuggle a muggle into Hogwarts.

As we walked to the train, George collared the kid and asked, "How?" The kid knew we were asking about the wand and answered honestly, "found it." I put my arm on the kid's shoulder and told him, "Gregory, when we get to school, you are going to do great."

"Thank you, Gregory,' said Albus, hastily.

"Did I do anything wrong, Sir?" he asked.

"No, son," Albus added with a weak smile, "only something unexpected."

Molly Weasley said to Arthur, "He's your son, definitely."

I thought it was great. "Did ye get me first inpression?" I asked.

"No," he replied sadly, " your first reactions was at a distance, I only take first impressions of people when the impression is made at the time of initial physical contact. The only person in this room is Ginny Weasley. Would you like to see that.

"Yes," I said.

"No," said Ginny, just a little too late.

We were waiting for the coast to clear, so we could cross over to platform nine 3/4, when we noticed this boy approaching. And right behind him was this station guy ready to grab him. Dad sent the guy away with a spell, and the poor boy came over to thank us. And I do mean poor. His pants were torn at one knee and wearing thin at the other, his shirt and jacket were missing buttons, and his sneakers looked like they were ready to fall apart. And then he told Mom he's going to Hogwarts. My heart just about broke. I remembered hearing about the Dursleys. I could not believe anyone was worse off than Harry.

Of course we helped him get to the platform, but then Mom and Dad kept embarrassing the boy, Gregory, with questions. Then Ron insults him, and gets mad when Gregory insults him back. Harry told Ron he deserved it, but in a much nicer voice than I would have used. Finally, Mom lets us all go, and Gregory asked if he could help us. When Harry let him carry Hedwig's cage, his face lit up with a huge smile. My heart nearly broke a second time.

We found Hermione and Neville holding a compartment for us, and we put our things away. I noticed both of them staring at Gregory. "Guys," I said, "this is Gregory, he's a first year. Gregory, meet Hermione and Neville. They politely said hello and, to break the ice, Hermione said, "Your parents must be proud of you." Gregory gave a shy smile and offered to show Hermione a picture. I looked at the picture, as he passed it over, and saw a young, and well-dressed couple. Then I heard Gregory say, softly, "times were better then." I know I sound like a repetition spell, but I felt my heart break again.

To change the subject, I began to talk about Hogwarts. Soon we were all telling stories about things that had happened at school. Harry and Hermione even told us about Norbert the Dragon and how, with Neville's help, they lost 150 House Points in one day.

We began to tell stories about Draco Malfoy and his failed attempts against Harry. We even got Gregory to laugh when we told him about the bouncing ferret. This ended when Fred and George came by saying they needed to borrow Gregory. They literally picked him up, and walked off with him. I waited an appropriate length of time and then excused myself. "You're going to follow them?" asked Ron. "Of course," I said, "they're up to something and I want to know what it is."

I followed the twins to their compartment. Being their sister, I listened at the door first, to try and get a hint of what was going on. Between Gregory, the Twins and Lee Jordan, I could guess who was saying what but the conversation made no sense.  
  


"He's eleven. Tell him you're eleven."

"I am eleven."

"That's good. Just remember, if anybody asks, you are eleven."

"But I am eleven."

"Good. Good. Keep it up."

"I think he's got the hang of it."

"But, really, I am eleven. Why would I lie about that?"

"Because you have to be eleven to get into the school."

"Oh, I'm eleven then."

"I thought all Weasleys had red hair."

"I'm adopted."

"What's the plan?"

"Simple, we dress him up and put him in a boat."

"He still needs a hat."

"It's a long train ride."  
  


This is when I opened the door and stepped in. "All right, what's going on?" I asked. "You better tell her, " Lee said. George grinned at me and said "Ginny, Gregory was just showing us what an amazing wizard he is. Did you know he is able to use any wand with the same skill that he can use his own?" "That's impossible," I said. Fred said he would prove it, and gave his wand to Gregory. "Try Petrificus Totalus," said George. The boy pointed the wand at Fred and shouted, "Petrificus Totalus." "See," said Fred, grinning at the obvious success of the spell. "Nothing happened," I told him. "That's right," Lee said. Then Gregory said, "want to see it again?" I started to speak, stopped, started again, stopped again. Lee and the twins began laughing

"He's a muggle," I said, figuring it out. Then I surprised all of us, especially myself. I grabbed the kid by his jacket and lifted him up until I was staring him in the eyes. "You made me feel sorry for you. You little rat. Where'd you steal the wand?" "Didn't," the kid said, scared, "found it." "Liar, you didn't find any wand," I said back to him, in a honey coated voice. "Tim did. My brother. He gave it to me. Honest." "And where is Tim, " I asked politely, "And you had better tell the truth, or your brother will be an only child." "Could you put me down first?" So I dropped the runt.

"I left Tim at the station," he told me, "but he shouldn't be there know. He knows the routine. If I didn't show up in an hour, he's to hold up at a place we've got near the library. We have a friend in the library who will take messages. I can call in the morning, and let him know where I end up." "Impressive," I heard George say. I knew that if I looked back I would see Fred and Lee nodding in agreement. I was impressed. I had to ask though, where Tim found the wand. Gregory answered, "He had it for a while. The first time I saw it was when he asked me if I wanted the box it came in. When I asked him where he found it, he said he didn't remember. He's only six." My jaw dropped when he told me Tim's age, but I didn't get a chance to say anything because of Lee. He wanted to know about the box. Gregory pulled out a long thin box, dark green, and covered in runes and carvings. He opened it up and showed us a pennywhistle. "Tim didn't want me to break this one," he said. "Are you any good?" Lee asked. Gregory picked up the pennywhistle, and asked, with a smile, "What would you like to hear?"

I held off on anymore questions when Gregory began playing, but Fred leaned forward and whispered in my ear, "Ginny, when you get a chance, could you get Ron's hat for us?"

After a pause, Molly said with a smile, "She takes after her mother, you know."

Mam looked at me, and said in her stern voice, "Owen, that was uncalled for. You've needlessly embarrassed Ginny. If you can't keep your mouth shut, then you can leave."

"But Mam..." I pleaded uselessly.

"You were here as a courtesy, because of everything you had been through. I'll talk to you later, but for now, GO."

"Your mother is right," Albus said. "While I did find what happened to be amusing, but due to Gregory's nature we must be careful."

That was it. I was banished from the best thing that ever happened to me. Now I would never find out why Gregory was a muggle and could do magic, or why he would forget about Timmy. I closed the door behind me as I left, then walked across the hallway and kicked the wall.

'Mam was right,' I thought as I leaned against the wall clutching my foot, 'I need to think before I act.'  
  



	14. September 15

September 15:

As I stood in the hallway outside the room, I had a flash of thoughts, the same as when Gregory shared his first impressions. He remembered being my friend, and didn't want me to be left out.

Until I chose to do so, I had never had any material form. I existed as an essence, or perhaps a concept. Words make it difficult to describe such a thing. I know of no better way to explain myself.

In the course of my existence I have observed many things, but was never moved by them. It was only by chance I discovered your world when I did. You have the ability to manipulate the essence of life without being a part of it. That sparked the only emotion I had, curiosity. After a degree of observation, I decided on an experiment to study you. I took a part of myself and made it into a corporal form, this green wand case that I have.

You talk of a human soul as an intangible part of each person. This case, to use an analogy, became my soul, and it was through this case that I interacted. My idea was simple. People would store things in cases such as this one. Whatever was stored in my case, I would use that to manipulate the bearer. The results were disastrous. I did not know how to control the manipulation of physical objects, and my case earned a reputation, I now know, of being cursed. The result of my test was that fewer humans interacted with me as time went by.

I tried a new tactic. I attempted to communicate. I was learning quickly by my standards, but centuries were passing by for humanity.

I did learn how to communicate. I, that is the green case, became a treasured object, much protected. I would attempt to satisfy any request if I thought that I understood what was wanted. I suppose they must have told stories about what happened when I did not understand.

Then I met a human who wanted knowledge. He had become the master of the case, and used me to discover secrets of the world, why rain falls, where the wind comes from, and other answers of nature. It was from him I learned the concept of self. Until this point, I did not think of myself as separate. When I performed an action, I had always thought of the act, but not the performer. This man was truly my master, in that I was his student, his apprentice in knowledge.

My understanding of humanity was still superficial, despite all of my learning. As I have proven, I could imitate the human condition but I never understood it completely. That was the state I was in when Timothy Andrew Wyatt discovered the box. It had taken a long and circuitous path from that old Druid of long ago.

Timothy was four when he found the case, the box, as he called it. I, It, was being sold at a bargain store and he liked the green color. I was sold cheaply, and Timothy clutched his treasure tightly all during the ride home. When we were alone, I revealed myself and asked him what I could do for him. He asked who I was, and I tried to explain that I was the case. He was too young to understand, and thought that I was trapped inside. That was when he told me I could have his 'box.'

This is when I first began to develop a split personality. Even though the box was part of me, I began to see it as a separate thing, as though it were, in fact, unreal. To me, all physical things had a sense of unreality to them. I thanked the boy for setting me free, and asked that he hold the box for me, to keep it safe. In exchange, I told him, I would keep him safe. To me it was only a game. It was only cruel circumstance that made it much more.

You know about the accident, and I know you have guessed parts of what had happened. Timothy had within him the ability to affect the essence of life, to perform magic. When the accident occurred, his reflexes took over. He translocated, I believe your word is apparated, from the sinking car, onto the side of the road. He would have been safe, under normal circumstances but, because of the accident, people were pulling their vehicles off the road, in a vain effort to help.

As I became aware of the circumstances, I willed to be there. I saw a vehicle strike the boy, who suffered mortal injuries. I reacted quickly, joining the essence that was Timothy with my material aspect. His body, I removed to a safe place, and then restored.

Therein lies the problem. I had forgotten that the box was the physical part of me. By merging what was Timothy with the box, I had merged him with myself.

The solution appears simple. I even tried it, for a different reason. By dissolving the physicality of the box, by making the box not be, I would become a complete spirit again, and Timothy's soul, for lack of a better word, would return to his body. The difficulty arose from the manner of my restoring his body. When our link started to dissolve, so did the spells on his body. He began to revert to the point at which I rescued him, wounded and dying. It was then that I discovered that I had limitations.

The greatest limitation I had was ignorance. It never occurred to me to ask help from humans. As a result, I became trapped in a cycle. Timothy hurt from his memories, so I blocked them. He was happy because he did not know any better. Over time, he would learn the truth, and become unhappy. I would erase the memories of what he had learned, and he would be happy again. Then he would learn the truth, and I would erase his memories again.

It was in July of this year, the event occurred which, thankfully, broke the cycle. Normal people, as I have learned, would have ignored it. Timothy, because of his magical nature, saw it. It was a witch riding a broomstick across the face of the full moon. I was told by Professor Dumbledore that she probably did it on purpose, to cause trouble.

Timothy screamed with joy and wanted to find the 'magic lady' that he saw. It was only then that the thought of asking for help finally occurred to me. That was when I made the wand. I knew I would have to make part of myself into a physical form, and I thought of the idea of using a human form as the easiest way. (I want to remind you that I had forgotten that I already had a physical form.) The easiest solution, to my mind, was to take the form of Timothy's brother. From the remains in his grave, I removed a bit of hair that was left. This I restored by bathing it in unicorn blood. I caused the hair to be part of the blood, and withdrew it when it was prepared. The restored hair I placed in the wand.

I had my wand prepared. This was important because it would fix the matrix, the pattern, for the form I would take. With the force of my will, I became Gregory Edward Wyatt. My problems increased at this point. It is one thing to exist as an inanimate object. Nothing affects you. On the other hand, as a human being, I felt the range of emotions and sensations I had only observed. I felt hot and hungry. I even became angry. I also learned a new way to see time. It was no longer a passage, but a flow. I do hope you understood that, because to me it is a beautiful description.

I should note that I never thought to ask for help without taking human form. I assumed that you would only help another human.

I became immersed in the concept of living, that I forgot my purpose. I remembered the part about seeking out people of magic, but not the reason. That is why I was at Kings Cross Station. It is also why, when Timothy became frightened, I agreed to leave him in his hiding spot, until I could come back for him. It is with humor I recall that day, two weeks ago.

I had taken the form of a poor child, as it was easy to slip by unseen. People don't want to see you. However, in a place like Kings Cross Station I am the kind of person they watch out for. I saw the family I now know as the Weasleys standing near the secret entrance, which I knew about on one level, yet did not on the physical level. I was afraid to do anything to reveal myself, and left it to my physical self to take care of things. That is why I became a muggle. It was an error of judgement.

One result of the separation of the physical and metaphysical aspects, was the split personality. My magical half settled down to guard the case until a solution was found. The physical half was left in ignorance of its ultimate task, but with a mental imperative to adapt.

Once I was on the train, the statement was made that I should be eleven. From that point, I, as Gregory, assumed I was that age. The significant change in my memories, as Gregory, was when Fiona made the comment that I did not have a family. At that moment, I forgot all about my brother. It was that change of memory which revealed the problem to all of you.

When I met the O'Donnell family, brought together by Dumbledore's urging, it triggered a response in me. I was always alone, but now I felt lonely. I was directed to Rubeus Hagrid as a father figure, and he talked to me, explaining what my problem was. As soon as he told me, I was cured.

I will dissolve the physical bonds, when Madame Pomfrey is ready to cast the healing spells. Timothy will be restored to the life he deserves. And, O'Donnell Dugh, you will always be my friend.

I sat in the hallway and waited for the end. I knew what was going to happen. As I waited, I saw Hermione leading Timothy to the infirmary. I knew time was growing short.

Suddenly, a bright light flashed under the door, and the door itself bulged out slightly. The curious part was that there was no noise.

I waited for a few minutes unsure of what to do. I was still standing there, watching the door, when Harry and Ron walked around the corner. Harry was saying something about finding Hermione. He saw me and waved, just as the door opened and Neville and Ginny walked out. They were completely disheveled, and Ginny's robe was torn. They were also laughing. I looked through the open door to see Albus casting cleansing spells, why Molly was rushing toward the door to retrieve her daughter. No noise could be heard. I realized that what happened was expected and that a silence spell was put on the room.

Neville started to tell me to go in, when I heard Ron yell, "You Bastard." I saw him run over and hit Neville. He pulled back his fist to hit him again, when Molly walked out of the room.

"Ronald Weasley, what do you think you are doing," Molly shouted. She looked at the suddenly frozen Ron, and then at Neville and Ginny. I could tell by the look on her face, she realized what Ron had thought had happened and yelled at Ron even louder.

"You filthy minded boy, how could you think that about your own sister." She turned around to see Dumbledore standing there. "Albus, think of the most severe punishment for this boy, and double it." She then pulled out her wand, and cast a spell restoring Ginny's appearance. She did the same for Neville, and sent him to the infirmary. She then turned to Ron, threatened him with her wand, then walked back into the room.

Albus looked at Ron and Harry, saying, "A small mishap, you and all the other students will be told about it at dinner. You are dismissed, Harry, you will find Miss Granger in the infirmary. Mr. Weasley, you will tell Argus Filch you need to be kept occupied until it is dinner time."

He turned to reenter the room, motioning for me to follow. As he closed the door behind me, he pointed to the corner. I stared in disbelief. It was the Tinker, standing there on all his glory.

"I did it, Owen," he said, laughing, "I really did it."

"Did what?" I asked in confusion. "I thought you would have to leave."

The Tinker's face lit up, the same way as when I'm teasing Fergus. "Of course I do, but only as far as Hagrid's hut."

Then I saw the broken wand, in his hand. I had a thought about what he might have done, since he had the strand of hair from the original Gregory.

"Hello, Pinocchio," I said.

Mam came up behind me, "You picked the right name to call him, Owen Dugh. He just became a real boy."

"And he'll have to come by the shop for a new wand," said Mr. Olivander. "I am curious which wand will choose him."

I was so overcome, that I hugged the Tinker as hard as I could. "Ye'll still be in school, then," I said.

"He'll be going to Hogwarts with Fergus," Mam said.

The Tinker's grin grew wider. "Until then I'll be going to school in Hogsmeade." He laughed at the look on my face. "Did you forget, Owen? I am only nine."  
  


Fergus had ended up with Da and the music teacher. He thought it was great that the Tinker was his age. He even made a deal with me. The three of us would be best friends together and forever. He was also as upset as I was to find out that the Tinker had lost his musical abilities. Professor Montague, the music teacher, said that was nonsense, that he now has to learn how to use them. She even offered private lessons.

Timothy turned out to be fine. Hermione was there when he woke up, and she took on the task of telling him that his memories of his family were true. Neville told me that she held him for over an hour, rocking him until he fell asleep again. She was still there when he woke up again.

Dumbledore apologized to everyone for underestimating the degree of the release of energy. That is adult for 'he didn't now it was going to be that big an explosion.'

Before he left with Hagrid, the Tinker told me that he almost didn't go through with it. He became scared. Neville convinced him he would be fine, telling the Tinker to read his mind. The Tinker was deeply impressed by how scared of things Neville really was, but that he faced up to them anyway. "I did something nice for him."  
  


At dinner that night, I looked around, and saw several faces missing. Ron Weasley, who would get a Howler the next morning, and detention until Hallowe'en, was apparently too tired to attend. Hermione, I knew, was still in the infirmary. The Tinker had gone of with Hagrid and was probably having dinner at the hut. Neville and Ginny were also missing, but no one knew anything.

As dinner ended, Albus called for everyone's attention. "Several issues have arisen, that I need to bring to everyone's attention. As you know, two weeks ago, we admitted to these halls, a boy, Gregory Wyatt, who was thought to have no magical abilities. This turned out to be untrue. He had in his possession a spell box, which hid his abilities as well as his true age. This was revealed in a confrontation earlier today, when the box was damaged. This also caused some distress for those present, but no one was injured.

"It seems our young wizard is in fact nine years old, but because he had no family, and another foundling to care for, he hatched a daring scheme to sneak into our school. He does have a proper award for his skill. He will be a student here when he is of age. Until then he is under the supervision of Rubeus Hagrid, our professor for Care of Magical Creatures.

"The young child, Timothy, that you have seen around the school grounds, will also be leaving us. He is also an orphan, and will be placed in adoption. His future sister, Hermione Granger, is with him, and will introduce him to her parents.

"The third issue has to deal with Neville Longbottom. He was called away suddenly on important family business. I have been asked not to say anything about it at this time. I will add that his good friend, Ginny Weasley, did accompany him. Both of them will explain fully when they return, if they choose to explain anything.

"Anyone else who is missing," he said, glancing over at the Gryffindor table, "is either serving a detention, or has other personal reasons." With that parting shot at Ron, he dismissed us.

Two hours after supper, I was called to Dumbledore's office. As I walked in, there was a small table set up with a pot and cups. "Owen, we never did have that cup of tea."

We sat and talked about my family for a little while, then I asked him, "Why did you have my family come? Da may have come on his own during the week, but not on the weekend. The pub would be too busy."

"I did it because of you, Owen. I knew Gregory was interested in the way you and Fiona interacted, and I hoped that giving him a close up view of a real family might get him to let down his guard. It worked better than I planned. You had already noticed his gullibility, for lack of a better word, and used it to bond him to you as a friend."

"Comhanaich Gael," I said, "That means that if Fergus had not suggested he talk to Hagrid, someone else would have."

Albus smiled, saying, "You have found the heart of the matter."

"Then ye knew what he was?"

"No, Owen, I only suspected, but your mother said it was the best guess she could make."

"And the prophecy has been fulfilled?" I asked, only to receive an answer which surprised me.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, Owen," Albus said in a voice that showed he was clearly enjoying it, "it seems that the prophecy has nothing to do with Gregory, at all."

I drank my tea, wondering what was in store for Neville.

  
  


Arthur and Molly contacted her estranged brother, Darren. He visited them at Christmas, instead of coming to our house. He also picked up two new clients. In exchange for a percentage of their business, he would manage the money end, supplying some additional start-up funds if needed. He guaranteed that Fred and George could start their business. He was confident they would succeed.  
  


Peeves remained my friend, although it ended up as the second strangest friendship I had. Before his transformation, the Tinker had asked if he could do anything to help anyone. Peeves was the only one to ask for anything. He asked, "How?" I was told that the Tinker reached his hand up and actually touched the Poltergeist, saying, "That is how." Peeved refused to comment on it except to say, "Just in case."  
  


After the troubles with Voldemort were ended, Neville Longbottom became a career politician, constantly pushing his social programs. He and Ginny had married not long after her graduation, and they had a long and happy marriage. Ron was their best man.  
  


The Tinker came to Hogwarts, graduating near the top of his class, but not near enough to make note of. The day he returned, Professor McGonagall called out his name, Gregory Hagrid. As soon as he took his first step forward, the Sorting Hat called out, "I know. Ravenclaw." The embarrassed boy walked to his table amidst laughter and cheers. His friend, Fergus O'Donnell, joined him.

The Tinker lived a full live, becoming a professional musician who performed in both the magical and muggle worlds. He died in a plane crash, at the age of forty-two. In all his short years, he never regretted the choice he made.  
  


Timothy Granger followed in his sister's footsteps, becoming a Gryffindor. He graduated top of his class.  
  



	15. Epilogue

September 18: St. Murgo's Hospital

"Mrs. Longbottom," the nurse called, "Its time to wake."

The lady in the bed, opened her eyes, "I was just resting, my dear. Remember. Last week I was a decade younger and then some."

The nurse laughed politely, happy that her patient had recovered so completely. She helped the older lady out of bed, and with her robe. "I talked with your husband, Frank. He is still in serious condition, but he is already better than you were when you first awoke. He can have visitors this afternoon."

Mrs. Longbottom shed a tear of happiness. She had been told what had happened to her and her husband, although she could remember nothing of it. The nurse had told her how delighted everyone was when she suddenly recovered. When it was found that her husband was recovering as well, it was put down as a miracle.

"We have another guest," the nurse said, "if you are up to it?"

"It is hard to suddenly grow older, but to see it happen to everyone you know, that is the hardest" she said, wistfully.

The nurse walked her through the halls to the waiting room, where she faltered. Standing up from one of the tables was a young man who reminded her so much of Frank, the day he asked her to the Yule Ball. As the young man walked forward, she asked hesitantly, "Neville?" "Mom," he answered, as he fell into her arms. She hugged the life out of him, crying the entire time. As the tears eased, she opened her eyes to see a girl, Neville's age, watching them. The girl had shed some tears of her own.

"Neville," his mother asked, "Who is that?"

Breaking his embrace, he held out his hand to the girl, "Mom, this is a very good friend of mine, Ginny Weasley."

Understanding filled her, and she hugged Ginny with as much warmth as if the girl were her own daughter.   
  


FINIS


End file.
